INTERNATIONAL    EDUCATION   SERIES 


M  E  M  O  K  Y 


WHAT  IT  IS  AND  HOW  TO  IMPROVE  IT 


BY 


DAVID   KAY,   F.  R.  G.  S. 

AUTHOR  OF  "  EDUCATION  AND  EDUCATORS,"  ETC. 


NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON 

D,    APPLETON    AND    COMPANY 

1914 


COPYRIGHT,  1888. 
BY  D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY. 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


EDITOR'S  PREFACE. 


THERE  is  no  topic  in  educational  psychology  more 
important  than  that  of  memory  and  its  cultivation. 
Memory  is  indispensable  in  all  intellectual  processes, 
and  therefore  must  be  trained  and  developed.  But  it 
is  liable  to  prove  destructive  to  the  other  faculties  (so 
called)  and  supplant  them  ;  hence  it  must  be  restrained 
within  its  proper  limits,  made  auxiliary  to  the  other 
faculties,  and  not  allowed  to  assume  the  chief  role.  It 
is  a  matter  of  every-day  comment  that  much  memoriz- 
ing deadens  the  power  of  thought — verbal  or  statistical 
memory  being  "mechanical."  But  it  is  also  equally 
true  that  memory  may  paralyze  the  powers  of  sense- 
perception,  imagination,  and  will.  With  an  overactive 
memory  we  suppose  ourselves  tcf  see  in  an  object  what 
we  remember  to  have  seen  in  it  before,  and  any  new 
features  escape  our  superficial  perception.  This  is  true, 
too,  in  the  case  of  imagination,  the  power  which  ought 
to  be  productive  as  well  as  reproductive,  and  by  which 
we  ought  to  envisage  not  only  real  objects  but  possible 
ones,  and  thereby  sharpen  our  powers  of  invention  and 
discovery.  Even  the  imagination  may  be  dulled  by  a 
too  active  memory,  and  degenerate  into  a  mirror  of  the 

360461 


VI  EDITOR'S  PREFACE. 

past.  The  productive  imagination  should  belong  not 
only  to  poets  and  artists,  but  to  all  men,  as  a  faculty  of 
discovering  ideals  and  emancipating  us  from  the  imper- 
fect reality.  It  should  give  us  a  tendency  to  invention 
and  to  aspiration.  But,  under  the  weight  of  prescribed 
forms  and  the  sway  of  memory,  a  civilization  crushes 
out  self-activity  on  the  part  of  individuals  and  imposes 
the  role  of  external  authority  upon  all.  Thus  the  will 
of  the  individual  loses  freedom,  and  settles  down  into 
passive  obedience  to  custom  and  prescription. 

The  important  question  to  determine  is  the  proper 
amount  of  memory-cultivation.  The  Chinese  education 
fills  the  memory  with  maxims  of  Confucius  and  Men- 
cius,  and  the  individual  follows  these  because  there  is 
little  else  in  his  mind :  their  lines  are  graven  so  deep 
that  nothing  else  seems  important. 

The  antidote  for  this  baneful  effect  of  memory  is  to 
be  sought  in  a  method  of  training  that  associates  effects 
with  causes,  and  individuals  with  species ;  that  associates 
one  idea  with  another  through  its  essential  relations,  and 
not  by  its  accidental  properties.  One  must  put  thought 
into  the  act  of  memory. 

Memory  is  not  one  faculty,  so  to  speak,  but  a  con- 
dition of  activity  of  all  faculties.  There  is  one  memory 
of  places,  another  memory  of  the  names  of  places ;  one 
memory  of  persons,  and  another  memory  of  names  of 
persons;  still  another  memory  of  dates;  another  of 
principles  and  causes ;  and  so  on.  The  cultivation  of  one 
species  of  memory  may  assist  or  it  may  hinder  another 
kind  of  memory,  according  as  the  mental  activity  by 
which  the  attention  is  fixed  on  one  subject  aids  or  hin- 
ders the  mental  activity  of  the  other  kind  of  memory. 


EDITOR'S  PREFACE.  vii 

"  Hence,"  says  Mr.  Kay  (page  13),  "  we  may  cultivate 
the  memory  for  persons  without  at  all  improving 
that  for  places,  and  a  good  memory  for  colors  may 
afford  little  help  toward  the  remembrance  of  forms." 
On  the  other  hand,  the  memory  of  names  assists  the 
memory  of  persons,  and  that  of  places  assists  that  of 
forms. 

The  cases  are  rare  in  which  a  person  has  a  weak 
memory  in  all  directions. 

In  considering  the  question  of  improving  the  mem- 
ory, therefore,  the  individual  must  ask  in  what  respect 
he  is  defective ;  is  it  dates,  or  names,  or  something  else 
that  he  fails  to  remember  ?  Moreover,  it  is  necessary 
to  ask  whether  it  is  important  to  remember  those  items 
that  he  forgets  so  easily — whether,  in  short,  it  is  worth 
while  to  acquire  a  habit  of  remembering  them.  For 
instance,  as  children  we  remembered  village  gossip,  per- 
sonal remarks,  actions,  or  things  and  events,  that  are  so 
trivial  that  we  do  not  permit  ourselves  now  to  interest 
ourselves  in  them  or  recall  them.  Do  we  not  find,  in  fact, 
our  memories  of  those  insipid  things  and  events  of  child- 
hood still  too  vivid  ?  We  are  apt  to  speak  of  children, 
for  this  very  reason,  as  having  strong  memories.  But 
would  we  willingly  have  again  our  childish  memories  ? 
Would  it  content  us  to  notice  trivial  circumstances  and 
overlook  essential  matters  ?  If  so,  it  is  easy  to  gratify 
our  desire  by  cultivating  the  childish  form  of  memory. 
We  may  give  our  attention  to  the  accidental  features  of 
an  event,  to  the  details  of  trivial  gossip,  and  neglect  the 
main  issues  and  the  causal  processes.  It  will  naturally 
result,  then,  that  we  shall  remember  as  children  remem- 
ber, with  the  difference  that  we  shall  find  ourselves  able 


yiii  EDITOR'S  PREFACE. 

to  do  a  far  greater  amount  of  superficial  observation 
and  recollection  than  children  can  do. 

Attention  is  regarded  as  the  condition  of  memory 
(see  Chapter  VII).  Attention  implies  a  selection  of  a 
small  province  of  the  field  before  us,  and  a  neglect  of 
the  rest.  Hence  the  training  of  attention  implies  also 
a  cultivation  of  neglect,  j  As  we  grow  mature  in  our 
intellectual  power  we  increase  in  our  ability  to  seize  the 
objects  of  our  choice  and  to  pass  over  without  notice  all 
others.  The  person  without  a  well-developed  power  of 
attention  is  in  a  state  of  passivity  toward  invading  ex- 
ternal influences.  He  is  a  prey  to  impressions  that 
come  from  his  environment.  Most  of  these  u  early  im- 
pressions," of  which  we  hear  so  much,  were  received  at 
a  time  when  trivial  things  could  seize  upon  us  and  ab- 
sorb our  powers  of  observation  to  the  neglect  of  more 
essential  things.  Such  passive  impressibility,  the  con- 
dition of  the  childish  memory,  it  is  the  object  of  educa- 
tion to  eradicate.  The  pupil  must  learn  to  exclude  and 
ignore  the  many  things  before  him,  and  to  concentrate 
all  his  powers  of  mind  on  the  one  chosen  subject.  Mr. 
Kay  truly  remarks  (page  259),  "  It  is  as  one  is  able  to 
shut  out  every  other  object,  every  other  idea,  even  self, 
from  the  mind  that  he  attains  the  highest  degree  of 
mental  power." 

It  follows  that  the  discipline  of  attention  makes  the 
memory  uneven  or  unequal.  The  study  of  relations 
weakens  our  memory  of  mere  isolated  data.  The  study 
of  general  ideas  causes  us  to  be  careless  in  regard  to 
specific  details  that  naturally  follow  as  effects.  Our  in- 
sight into  laws  weakens  our  hold  of  special  instances. 
Knowing  the  law  of  eclipses,  we  can  calculate  all  past 


EDITOR'S  PREFACE.  Jx 

and  all  future  instances,  and  we  do  not  care  to  burden 
our  memory  with  the  historical  record  of  eclipses.  Our 
attention  to  the  meaning  of  a  word  weakens  our  mem- 
ory of  its  sound ;  attention  to  a  person's  character  makes 
us  less  careful  to  remember  his  costume. 

While,  therefore,  it  is  a  correct  educational  maxim 
that  the  memory  must  be  trained  on  essential  relations 
and  causal  processes  so  as  to  strengthen  the  power  of 
thought  at  the  same  time,  yet  there  may  be  excess  even 
in  this  direction.  We  find,  accordingly,  people  whose 
memory  of  dates  is  so  defective  as  to  cause  much  waste 
of  power ;  other  persons  are  so  forgetful  of  names  as  to 
be  under  constant  embarrassment  in  conversation  or  in 
writing. 

It  is  a  reasonable  thing  to  correct  special  defects  in 
the  lower  orders  of  memory  when  they  become  matters 
of  serious  embarrassment.  Those  special  powers  of 
memory  should  in  that  case  be  strengthened.  It  is  a 
perception  of  this  necessity  that  has  led  to  systems  of 
mnemonics.  The  common  device  of  such  systems  has 
been  association  of  the  items  of  one  province  of  memory 
with  those  of  another.  The  items  easily  forgotten  are 
fastened,  so  to  speak,  to  items  easily  remembered — 
names  or  dates,  for  example,  to  places  or  events.  As  it 
often  happens  that  the  items  of  one  order  are  not  re- 
lated to  the  other  order  by  the  principle  of  causality  or 
genetic  development,  it  happens  that  the  mnemonic 
association  by  which  memory  of  a  particular  kind  is  to 
be  strengthened,  is  merely  an  accidental  relation  of  the 
items  associated.  Contiguity  of  space  or  accidental  re- 
semblance in  sound  is  to  assist  us  to  remember.  By 
mnemonics  we  cultivate  a  habit  of  consciously  seeking 


X  EDITOR'S   PREFACE. 

such  accidental  relations,  and  we  accordingly  injure  our 
power  of  logical  thought  by  neglecting  essential  for  un- 
essential relations.  Our  author  (page  281)  condemns 
such  mnemonic  devices  severely — "  The  wrong  associa- 
tion of  ideas  in  the  mind  is  a  source  of  endless  mis- 
chief,"— and  quotes  Locke  as  saying :  "  The  connection 
in  our  minds  of  ideas,  in  themselves  loose  and  inde- 
pendent of  one  another,  has  such  an  influence  and  is  of 
so  great  force  to  set  us  wrong  in  our  actions,  as  well 
moral  and  natural,  passions,  reasonings,  and  notions 
themselves,  that  perhaps  there  is  not  any  one  thing  that 
deserves  more  to  be  looked  after." 

An  example  of  this  wrong  method :  Gregor  von 
Feinaigle's  "  New  Art  of  Memory  "  (London,  1812)  says 
that  "  the  recollection  of  ideas  is  assisted  by  associating 
some  idea  of  relation  between  them ;  and  as  we  find  by 
experience  that  whatever  is  ludicrous  is  calculated  to 
make  a  strong  impression  upon  the  mind,  the  more 
ridiculous  the  association  is  the  better."  Think  of  an 
effort  of  the  mind  to  discover  absurd  and  ridiculous  re- 
lations between  ideas  with  a  view  to  remember  them ! 
That  were  to  cultivate  memory  at  the  expense  of  sane, 
rational  thought. 

The  true  method  of  cultivating  and  strengthening  a 
defective  memory  is  to  practice  it  on  the  kind  of  items 
that  it  easily  forgets.  A  few  such  items  must  be  memo- 
rized and  reviewed  daily,  adding  a  small  increment  to 
the  list  as  soon  as  it  has  become  perfectly  mastered.  A 
list  with  fifty  items  thus  memorized  will  suffice  to  de- 
velop a  habit  of  attention  to  such  items  and  a  power  of 
recalling  them,  which  will  grow  steadily  with  such  exer- 
cise as  circumstances  bring  occasion  for. 


EDITOR'S  PREFACE,  x| 

A  personal  example  may  be  related.  The  writer, 
when  in  his  eighteenth  year,  was  embarrassed  by  the 
feebleness  of  his  memory  for  dates.  He  commenced 
learning  a  list  of  the  dates  of  accession  of  English 
kings — William  the  Conqueror  in  1066,  William  Rufus 
in  1087,  etc. — three  or  four  dates  the  first  day ;  two  new 
ones  added  the  second  day ;  one  new  one  added  the 
third  day ;  thereafter  less  often.  Constant  review  by- 
and-by  made  the  entire  list  familiar.  It  had  to  be 
learned  anew  a  year  after,  and  once  again  after  some 
years  of  neglect.  But  the  memory  for  dates  grew 
steadily,  and,  without  conscious  effort,  dates  and  num- 
bers soon  came  to  be  seized  with  a  firmer  grasp  than 
before.  This  kind  of  memory  still  increases  with  the 
writer  from  year  to  year,  and,  although  it  is  not  by  any 
means  a  phenomenal  memory,  it  is  very  serviceable. 

A  similar  cultivation  of  the  special  memory  for 
proper  names  (which  in  the  writer's  case  had  become 
very  weak  and  threatened  to  go  altogether)  has  proved 
serviceable. 

The  special  kind  of  memory  that  is  weak  should  be 
cultivated  by  itself  and  not  attached  to  some  other  form 
of  memory.  The  simile  of  a  magnet  is  to  the  point 
here.  Load  it  to-day  with  iron  filings,  and  to-morrow 
it  will  support  a  few  more.  The  memory,  if  only  strong 
enough  to  retain  a  single  item  with  effort,  will  grow 
stronger  by  the  effort,  and  will  soon  retain  two  items, 
and  finally  others  in  vast  numbers  and  without  effort. 

By  this  method  we  avoid  fantastic  associations  and 
correct  the  weak  faculty  itself,  instead  of  fastening  its 
work  on  another  faculty.  Let  the  exercise  be  a  list  of 
dates  valuable  to  retain  for  themselves.  Or,  if  it  is 


Xli  EDITOR'S   PREFACE. 

names  that  one  wishes  to  remember,  select  a  list  of  im- 
portant persons  that  furnish  centers  of  historical  infor- 
mation ;  such,  for  example,  as  the  names  of  the  Roman 
emperors,  the  English  and  the  French  kings,  the  heroes 
of  Plutarch's  histories ;  or  of  typical  personalities,  such 
as  the  characters  in  Shakespeare's  dramas  or  in  Homer's 
"  Iliad  " — items  of  world-historical  importance. 

A  list  of  one  hundred  proper  names  learned  in  their 
order,  as  kings  of  France  and  of  England,  and  the  em- 
perors of  Rome,  will  furnish  central  nuclei  to  historic 
material,  and  the  memorizing  of  such  a  list,  or,  indeed, 
a  list  half  as  large,  will  so  discipline  the  memory  for 
names  as  to  permanently  remove  all  embarrassment 
from  this  source.  It  is  not  the  length  of  the  list, 
so  much  as  the  thoroughness  with  which  it  is  learned, 
that  develops  the  memory.  It  is  not  well  to  go  on  be- 
yond a  hundred  items,  for  the  reason  that  such  mechani- 
cal memory  should  not  be  made  too  strong.  Idiots  and 
semi-idiots  may  show  prodigious  powers. of  remember- 
ing numbers,  and  very  feeble  intellects  may  be  excep- 
tionally apt  in  remembering  names  and  other  words. 
Therefore,  while  there  should  be  some  special  train- 
ing to  strengthen  varieties  of  mechanical  memory  that 
have  become  too  weak  for  the  service  required  of  them, 
they  should  not  be  over-cultivated. 

Repetition  and  careful  attention  should  be  relied 
upon  more  than  association  in  the  cultivation  of  the 
mechanical  varieties  of  memory,  for  the  reason  that  as- 
sociation, though  more  showy  and  brilliant  in  its  effects 
than  repetition  and  attention,  is  not  so  much  a  correc- 
tion of  the  special  province  of  memory  defective  as  a 
substitution  of  another  province  of  memory  for  the  de- 


EDITOR'S  PREFACE.  Xlft 

fective  one.     Memory  of  places,  for  example,  is  substi- 
tuted vicariously  for  memory  of  numbers  or  names. 

The  author  of  this  book,  Mr.  Kay,  devotes  the  first 
four  chapters  to  a  discussion  of  the  physiological  side  of 
memory — not,  however,  with  much  reference  to  the  re- 
cent special  researches  in  physiological  psychology.1 
This  is  just  as  well,  perhaps,  for  there  is  nothing  strictly 
physiological  thus  far  discovered  that  is  of  much  prac- 
tical value  in  the  educational  treatment  of  memory. 
Much,  it  is  true,  has  been  located  or  partially  located  in 
the  brain  and  nervous  system,  and  diseases  of  the  mem- 
ory may  with  some  degree  of  certainty  be  connected 
with  accompanying  lesions  in  the  brain.  But  whether 
these  lesions  are  causes  or  effects,  or  both,  we  are  not 
able  to  cure  an  ordinary  case  of  failing  memory  except 
by  pure  psychological  means-^amdjj_bj_attention, 
mental  association,  and  repetition- — doubtless  affecting 
the  brain  thereby,  but  through  free  acts  of  the  will.2 
We  can  affect  the  brain  through  the  effort  of  the  will 
on  the  memory,  but  we  can  not  as  yet  develop  the 
i^emory  through  body-culture. 

1  There  is  no  reference,  for  example,  to  the  labors  of  Wundt, 
Waitz,  Volkmann,  James  Ward,   Ebbinghaus,  Fechner,  Meynert, 
Spitzka,  Plourens,  Hartwig,  or  to  Ribot's  "  Diseases  of  the  Memory." 

2  An  example  of  the  vagueness  and  uncertainty  of  attempted 
physiological  statements  of  the  facts  of  mind  is  seen  in  the  case  of 
Herbert  Spencer's  law  (quoted  on  page  285) :  "  Two  ideas  will  co- 
here feebly  or  thoroughly  according  as  the  correlative  nervous  states 
involve  a  feeble  or  a  strong  discharge  along  the  lines  of  nervous 
connection ;  and  hence  a  large  wave  of  feeling,  implying  as  it  does 
a  voluminous  discharge  in  all  directions,  renders  such  two  ideas  more 
coherent."    Compare  with  this  the  counter-doctrine  of  Mr.  Kay  (on 
page  299) :  "  Emotion,  passion,  and  other  feelings  that  are  of  a  dif- 
fusive nature  and  affect  the  brain  generally,  prevent  action  along 


EDITOR'S  PREFACE. 

Aside  from  this  exception  (of  the  more  recent  au- 
thorities) Mr.  Kay  has  everywhere  supported  his  state- 
ments by  copious  quotations  from  the  literature  of  the 
subject.  More  than  one  thousand  well-chosen  citations 
from  nearly  two  hundred  authors  are  given,  and  the 
reader  may  see  the  drift  of  past  investigation  and  theory 
on  the  subject. 

It  may  be  added  that  Aristotle's  profound  insight 
into  the  nature  of  the  soul  and  its  powers  deserves  more 
study.  In  his  "De  Anima"  that  philosopher  places 
memory  with  the  phantasy,  the  activity  of  sense-percep- 
tion, and  the  discursive  intellect,  as  together  constitut- 
ing the  "  passive  reason  "  (Nofc  TraOrjTi/cos).  He  consid- 
ers this  part  of  the  soul  perishable  or  moribund.  This 
thought  of  the  perishability  of  such  faculties  in  the  on- 
ward career  of  the  soul  has  quite  another  and  deeper 
meaning  than  that  usually  attributed  to  it.  Memory 
and  sense-perception  become  less  and  less  prominent 
factors  in  the  human  mind,  and  in  some  departments 
they  already  occupy  a  very  inferior  position.  In  arith- 
metic and  geometry,  for  example,  we  deduce  the  special 
instance  rather  than  observe  it  and  memorize  it.  In 
each  of  the  natural  sciences  an  epoch  of  observation 
closes  with  an  exhaustive  inventory  of  its  details,  and 
there  follows  an  epoch  in  which  the  whole  compass  of 
details  is  organized  into  a  system  by  means  of  a  discov- 
ery of  the  laws  and  modes  of  action  of  the  organic  en- 
limited  tracts.  Hence  the  apparent  antagonism  between  our  feel- 
ings and  our  intellect,  the  one  acting,  as  it  were,  in  direct  opposition 
to  the  other ;  .  .  .  our  past  feelings  are  very  difficult  to  recall,"  etc. 
Professor  Bain  also  indorses  this  to  the  effect  that  "  emotion  spurns 
nice  distinctions,  and  incapacitates  the  mind  for  feeling  them." 


EDITOR'S  PREFACE.  XV 

ergy  that  produces  the  facts.  Each  fact  is  then  seen  in 
the  perspective  of  its  history,  or  of  its  genesis,  and  thus 
thoroughly  explained ;  but  with  such  explanation  the 
scaffolding  of  original  facts  that  were  inventoried  and  sys- 
tematized falls  away,  and  all  observation  of  new  facts  in 
the  province  becomes  a  mere  verification  of  the  known 
mode  of  action  of  the  energy.  Agassiz,  having  learned 
the  principles  of  biological  structure,  recognizes  a  new 
fish  from  one  of  its  scales,  and  can  tell  with  confidence 
its  structure  and  conditions  of  living.  It  is  not  a  mat- 
ter of  memory,  but  of  direct  insight.  So  Ouvier  can  see 
the  whole  animal  in  one  of  its  bones,  and  Lyell  see  in 
each  pebble  its  entire  history.  Goethe's  allegorical 
"  Homunculus  " l  symbolizes  this  new  achievement  in 
the  scientific  mind.  The  little  living  being  confined  in 
a  bottle  figures  the  final  career  of  induction  which  has 
arrived  at  insight  or  intuition.  Having  exhaustively 
surveyed  its  limited  field,  each  special  science  seizes 
upon  the  organizing  principle  and  can  predict  facts  or 
recognize  and  explain  them  at  sight.  When  we  can 
see  each  immediate  fact  in  the  perspective  of  its  gene- 
sis or  history,  we  have  no  use  for  memory  which  pre- 
serves for  us  facts  and  events  isolated  from  their  pro- 
ducing and  deducing  causes.  Memory  is  moribund, 
and  in  province  after  province  it  is  losing  its  impor- 
tance. A  fact-producing  principle  is  seized  and  the 
facts  are  kept  no  longer  in  vast  storehouses,  for  they 
can  be  deduced  when  wanted,  or,  if  encountered  in  our 
experience,  they  can  be  explained  and  dismissed.  We 
look  beyond  them  to  their  causes,  and  let  sense-percep- 
tion and  memory  of  such  facts  both  drop.  The  relative 
1  See  the  "  Second  Part  of  Faust," 


EDITOR'S  PREFACE. 

amount  of  activity  of  sense-perception,  of  memory,  and 
of  mere  reflection  on  accidental  relations  (1/01)9  TraOrjTt- 
#09),  continually  diminishes,  and  the  thinking  on  princi- 
ples, causes,  and  organic  processes  (1/01)9  TTOI^TIKO^  in- 
creases. 

WILLIAM  T. 
CONCORD,  MASS.,  August,  1888. 


AUTHOR'S  PREFACE. 


MANY  years  ago  the  present  author  contributed  an 
article  on  "  Mnemonics  "  to  the  Eighth  Edition 
of  the  Encyclopaedia  Britannica  ;  and  since  that  time,  as 
indeed  before,  the  subject  of  memory  has  had,  for  him, 
a  special  interest.  The  more,  however,  he  studied 
Systems  of  Mnemonics  the  less  satisfactory  did  he  find 
them  to  be.  They  are  all  based  on  imperfect  or 
mistaken  views  of  the  true  nature  of  memory ;  and 
the  striking  effects  sometimes  produced  by  them  are 
mere  tricks  of  mental  association,  which  do  nothing 
towards  the  improvement  of  the  higher  parts  of 
memory,  or  its  development  as  a  whole.  A  pretty  ex- 
tensive reading  of  works  on  Mental  Philosophy  threw 
light  on  many  points  connected  with  this  faculty ;  but 
it  was  only  when  he  came  to  view  it  in  connection  with 
the  facts  of  Physiology  that  he  arrived  at  what  he 
believes  to  be  a  right  understanding  of  it. 

Physiology  shows  the  close  and  intimate  connection 
that  subsists  between  mind  and  body.  From  it  we 
learn  that  every  thought  that  passes  through  the 
mind,  every  sensation  we  experience,  every  act  we  do, 
produces  some  definite  change  in  our  bodily  structure, 
so, that  there  is  reason  to  believe  that  there  is  a  par- 
ticular state  of  the  body  corresponding  to  every  state 
or  act  of  the  mind.  This  change  is  permanent,  and 


Xviii  AUTHOR'S  PREFACE. 

constitutes  in  the  author's  view  the  physical  basis  of 
memory,  the  type  of  which  may  be  seen  in  the  scar  of 
a  cut  finger  which  remains  long  after  the  wound  itself 
is  healed,  and  never  wholly  disappears.  The  change 
so  effected  is  not  confined  to  the  brain,  but  extends  to 
all  the  parts  of  the  body  in  which  it  originally  took 
place. 

When  one  performs  a  set  of  movements  for  the  first 
time,  he  may  find  considerable  difficulty  in  doing  so, 
owing  to  the  unadaptedness  of  the  parts  concerned. 
These  parts,  however,  retain  certain  traces  of  what  has 
taken  place  in  them,  so  that  when  the  movements  come 
to  be  performed  a  second  time,  the  difficulty  attending 
them  is  somewhat  less;  and  thus  at  length,  through 
frequent  repetition,  what  was  at  first  accomplished  with 
difficulty,  comes  to  be  performed  with  the  greatest 
ease.  Along  with  this  increased  ease,  the  muscles  that 
have  been  in  action  are  observed  to  acquire  greater  size 
and  firmness, — according  to  some,  in  consequence  of  an 
increase  in  size  of  the  existing  fibres,  but  according  to 
others,  with  more  probability,  through  the  growth  of 
new  fibres.  And  as  with  the  muscles  so  with  the 
senses.  The  trained  sense  is  capable  of  apprehending 
what  to  the  untrained  sense  is  imperceptible,  owing  to 
the  greater  aptitude  of  the  sense-organ  through  train- 
ing. Nor  can  it  be  held  to  be  different  with  our  intel- 
lectual faculties.  The  trained  reasoner  readily  detects 
fallacies  in  an  argument,  in  consequence  of  the  part  of 
the  brain  where  the  reasoning  faculty  has  its  seat 
having  been  developed  by  exercise.  Men  act  as  they 
have  been  accustomed  to  act,  they  observe  best  what 
they  have  frequently  observed,  not  merely  on  account 
of  changes  effected  in  the  brain,  but  also  in  the  muscles 
and  organs  of  sense.  The  will  has  by  no  means  that 
power  over  our  actions,  or  even  our  thoughts,  that  is 


AUTHOR'S  PREFACE. 

commonly  supposed.  A  man  cannot  at  will  change  his 
gait,  his  handwriting,  his  voice,  nor  even  his  modes  of 
thought,  simply  because  the  parts  concerned  in  these 
have  developed  in  the  direction  in  which  they  have 
been  exercised,  and  cannot  readily  act  otherwise. 

When  we  recall  to  mind  with  any  degree  of  distinct- 
ness an  act  we  have  previously  done,  the  similarity 
between  this  and  the  original  doing  of  it  is  so  great  as 
to  favour  the  opinion  that  the  same  parts  are  concerned 
in  the  one  as  in  the  other.  When  we  repeat  an  act  a 
second  time,  some  traces  of  the  first  act  remain  and 
render  the  second  more  easy;  and  may  we  not  well 
suppose  that  these  traces  have  also  something  to  do  in 
the  recollection  of  it  ?  And  as  with  our  actions  so  with 
our  sensations  and  thoughts,  the  changes  wrought  by 
them  in  our  bodily  structure  may  well  be  supposed  to 
be  concerned  in  the  recollection  of  them. 

It  is  the  author's  opinion,  then,  that  whatever  parts 
are  concerned  in  the  production  of  a  sensation,  or  in 
effecting  a  movement,  the  same  parts  are  necessary  to 
a  full  and  complete  recollection  of  it.  Thus,  the  senses 
are  not  only  necessary  for  the  receiving  of  impressions, 
but  are  also  concerned  in  the  recollection  of  them,  and 
the  muscles  are  not  only  requisite  for  the  performance 
of  actions,  but  are  necessary  also  for  the  remembrance  of 
them.  This  is  particularly  the  case  in  the  highest  form 
of  memory,  the  "representative"  or  "imaginative," 
where  the  past  impression  is  recalled  with  almost  all 
the  vividness  and  distinctness  of  the  original. 

Physiologists,  however,  almost  without  exception, 
assert  that  the  brain  alone  is  the  seat  of  the  memory. 
They  are  shut  up  to  this  view  from  holding  that 
the  nerves  are  capable  of  conveying  impresuions  only 
in  one  direction, — sensory  nerves  only  to  the  brain, 
motor  nerves  only  from  the  brain.  Hence,  when  a 


XX  AUTHOR'S  PREFACE. 

sensation  passes  from  an  organ  of  sense  to  the  biam  it 
is  there  treasured  up  for  the  after  use  of  the  memory. 
According  to  this  view  there  is  no  way  by  which  the 
mind  can  communicate  with  the  organ  of  sense,  or 
take  cognisance  of  its  condition.  A  man  ignorant  of 
Physiology  believes  that  he  feels  an  object  at  the  points 
of  his  fingers,  but  the  Physiologist  steps  in  and  says 
that  he  can  feel  it  only  in  his  brain,  because  the  nerves 
of  sensation  carry  impressions  only  to  the  brain.  Ac- 
cording to  Sir  W.  Hamilton,  however,  "  we  have  no 
more  right  to  deny  that  the  mind  feels  at  the  finger 
points,  as  consciousness  assures  us,  than  to  assert  that 
it  thinks  exclusively  in  the  brain  ".  "  The  organ  of 
the  mind/'  says  Prof.  Bain,  "  is  not  the  brain  by  it- 
self :  it  is  the  brain,  nerves,  muscles,  organs  of  sense, 
viscera." 

It  was  formerly  held  that  nerves  conveyed  impres- 
sions only  in  one  direction  owing  to  a  difference  in 
their  nature  or  structure,  but  this  is  now  found  not  to 
be  the  case,  for  each  class  of  nerves  is  capable  of  con- 
veying impressions  in  either  direction.  If  the  end  of  a 
sensory  nerve  be  united  with  the  end  of  a  motor  nerve, 
the  excitation  of  the  sensory  may  be  transmitted  to  the 
motor  fibres,  and  the  reverse.  A  careful  consideration 
of  the  subject  has  led  the  author  to  regard  each  class 
of  nerves  as  capable  of  conveying  impressions  in  either 
direction, — sensory  nerves,  while  primarily  afferent, 
being  secondarily  efferent,  and  motor  nerves,  while  pri- 
marily efferent,  being  secondarily  afferent.  Hence  a 
sensory  nerve  in  sensation  is  afferent — conveying  an 
impression  to  the  brain,  whereas  in  perception  and  in 
recollection  it  is  efferent — conveying  an  impulse  from 
the  brain  to  the  organ  of  sense.  Speaking  of  a  similar 
view,  Prof.  M'Kendrick  says  that  it  "is  quite  consistent 
with  all  the  facts  of  nervous  physiology,  and  presents 


AUTHOR'S  PREFACE.  Xxi 

fewer  difficulties  than  the  one  generally  held".  (Art. 
"  Physiology,"  in  Encyclopedia  Britannica,  Ninth  Edi- 
tion, 1885.)  As  strengthening  the  view  that  the  mind 
is  in  connection  with  all  parts  of  the  nervous  system, 
it  is  to  be  borne  in  mind  that  there  is  no  essential  dif- 
ference between  the  nervous  matter  of  the  brain  and 
that  of  the  numerous  ganglia  throughout  the  body,  and 
recent  physiological  investigations  show  that  the  axis 
cylinder  of  the  nerve  fibres  is  identical  with  the  proto- 
plasmic substance  of  the  nerve  cells — the  latter  being 
simply  "nucleated  enlargements  of  the  axial  cylinder". 

The  importance  of  this  doctrine  to  the  view  here 
advocated  is  that  it  enables  us  to  explain  how  the  mind 
can  communicate  with  the  organs  of  sense  or  the 
muscles  in  recalling  past  sensations  or  movements. 
Unless  the  same  parts  are  concerned  in  the  recalled 
sensation  as  were  active  in  the  original,  it  is  difficult 
to  see  how  they  should  so  closely  resemble  each  other. 
It  is  well  known  that  if  we  close  our  eyes  and  think 
intently  on  a  particular  colour,  the  retina  becomes  ex- 
hausted for  the  reception  of  that  colour,  exactly  as  if 
we  had  been  actually  gazing  upon  it.  The  artist  who 
can  recall  to  mind  a  scene  he  has  once  looked  upon,  so 
vividly  that  he  can  paint  it  from  memory,  as  if  it  were 
actually  before  his  eyes,  must  be  supposed  to  have  the 
power  of  again  projecting  on  the  retina  the  impression 
previously  made  on  it. 

Philosophers  recognise  an  essential  difference  between 
sensation  and  perception.  In  sensation  an  impression 
is  conveyed  inward  from  an  organ  of  sense  to  the  brain 
and  awakens  consciousness ;  in  perception  the  awakened 
consciousness  goes  out,  as  it  were,  upon  the  sensation, 
distinguishes  it  from  other  sensations,  and  localises  it. 
In  the  former  it  is  known  that  an  impulse  passes  from 
an  organ  of  sense  to  the  brain,  and  in  the  latter  it 


Xxii  AUTHOR'S  PREFACE. 

would  seem  that  an  impulse  passes  from  the  brain  to 
the  organ  of  sense. 

Every  idea  in  the  mind  must  have  entered  it  by 
some  sense,  and  in  order  to  its  fall  and  complete  recall, 
it  is  believed  that  it  must  be  again  projected  or  imaged 
in  an  organ  of  sense.  Even  the  most  abstract  of  our 
.  ideas  are  abstracts  of  sensations  belonging  to  some  sense, 
which  is  also  concerned  in  the  recollection  of  them. 
In  order  to  think  on  a  subject  it  is  necessary  to  put  it 
out  as  it  were  from  the  mind.  "Thought,"  saysHeyse, 
"is  not  even  present  to  the  thinker  till  he  has  set  it 
forth  out  of  himself."  By  thus  putting  forth  his  ideas 
they  become  as  it  were  objects  of  sense,  and  doubtless 
the  senses  are  concerned  in  them.  Thus  the  senses  are 
not  only  necessaiy  for  the  recollection  of  our  sensations, 
but  even  of  our  ideas. 

Holding,  then,  that  the  seat  of  the  memory  is  not 
the  brain  alone  but  also  the  organs  of  sense  and  the 
muscles,  it  is  evident  that  in  order  to  improve  the 
memory  special  attention  must  be  given  to  the  training, 
of  the  senses.  This  is  to  be  done  by  first  training 
them  to  observe  carefully  what  is  before  them,  and  then 
making  them  recall  or  reproduce  what  has  been  pre- 
sented to  them,  as  accurately  as  possible.  These  two 
are  distinct.  The  one  depends  on  attention,  the  other 
on  association,  and  frequently  recalling  what  is  in  the 
mind.  In  attention  the  great  thing  is  to  concentrate 
the  mind  upon  one  thing  at  a  time  till  it  is  thoroughly 
mastered.  In  association  we  must  seek  to  bring 
together  and  associate  those  ideas  that  most  nearly 
resemble  each  other,  and  that  we  wish  to  recall  each 
other.  By  frequently  recalling  our  knowledge,  we,  as 
it  were,  strengthen  and  facilitate  the  means  of  com* 
munication  between  the  senses  and  the  brain. 
Jn  order  that  a  movement  or  change  in  any  part  of 


AUTHOR'S  PREFACE.  Xxiii 

the  body  may  be  taken  up  and  apprehended  by  the 
mind,  it  is  necessary  that  a  mental  image  of  it  be 
formed.  The  mind  can  take  no  account  of  any  move- 
ments or  changes  that  may  be  taking  place  in  the  body, 
except  in  so  far  as  they  give  rise  to  mental  images,  and 
according  to  the  clearness  and  accuracy  of  the  image 
which  is  formed  will  be  the  hold  taken  of  it  by  the 
memory.  These  images,  it  is  believed,  have  their  seat 
not  only  in  the  brain,  but,  like  the  memory  and  the 
mind  itself,  embrace  also  an  organ  of  sense  or  certain 
of  the  muscles. 

As  it  is  held  that  every  motion,  sensation,  and 
thought  leaves  its  permanent  traces  in  our  physical 
structure,  it  naturally  follows  that  every  thought  or 
impression  that  has  once  been  consciously  before  the 
mind  never  afterwards  entirely  passes  from  it.  It  may 
never  again  come  up  consciously  before  the  mind,  but 
it  will  remain  in  the  region  of  unconsciousness,  giving 
a  colour  or  bias,  it  may  be,  to  all  our  after-thoughts  and 
feelings.  Hence  the  most  sanguine  hopes  may  be 
entertained  with  regard  to  the  possibilities  for  im- 
proving the  memory.  What  an  unspeakable  advantage 
it  would  be  to  a  man  if  everything  that  he  had  evei 
read,  or  heard,  or  seen,  or  thought,  or  done,  could 
be  so  laid  up  in  his  mind  that  he  should  be  able  to 
recall  it  at  any  time  he  might  wish  to  do  so ;  and  who 
shall  say  that  this  is  impossible?  At  least  there  are 
cases  recorded  of  men  having  had  such  memories. 

The  author  has  little  faith  in  Arts  for  improving  the 
memory  in  two  or  three  lessons,  but  he  has  unbounded 
faith  in  systems  of  education,  properly  conducted,  to 
effect  incredible  improvements  in  this  direction.  Chil- 
dren in  their  earliest  years  manifest  great  power  of 
memory,  and  they  learn  to  speak  and  understand  their 
mother-tongue  in  a  very  short  space  of  time.  This 


AUTHOR'S   PREFACE. 

power  is  said  to  be  speedily  lost,  but  it  may  well  be 
questioned  whether  it  is  not  destroyed  by  wrong 
methods  of  teaching.  Whatever  the  child  sees  it  looks 
at  with  its  whole  mind,  whatever  it  hears  its  whole 
mind  is  bent  upon  it,  but  as  soon  as  its  education  begins 
all  this  is  changed.  It  is  set  to  learn  the  alphabet,  and 
here  it  has  three  tasks  put  before  it  at  once.  A  letter 
is  presented  to  its  eye  which  perhaps  it  has  never  seen 
before,  and  it  is  expected  to  form  a  visual  image  of  it ;  a 
sound  is  addressed  to  its  ear,  and  an  auditory  image 
has  to  be  formed  of  it,  and  it  is  expected  to  pronounce 
it  all  at  the  same  time.  Now,  if  there  is  any  truth  in  the 
principles  here  laid  down,  they  clearly  show  that  a 
child  cannot  learn  two  things  at  the  same  time  without 
great  loss  of  power  and  injury  to  the  parts  concerned. 
If  we  would  observe  and  follow  nature,  then,  the  ear 
should  be  first  of  all  accustomed  to  the  sounds  of  the 
different  letters  before  seeing  them,  or  even  being  re- 
quired to  pronounce  them.  Then,  when  it  is  familiar 
with  the  sounds  of  the  different  letters,  let  it  be  taught 
to  pronounce  them,  and  only  when  it  can  do  this  accu- 
rately should  it  be  made  acquainted  with  the  forms. 
In  like  manner,  in  learning  a  foreign  language,  the 
different  sounds  should  first  be  mastered  by  the  ear 
and  tongue  before  the  words  are  presented  to  the  eye. 
Further  remarks  on  this  subject  will  be  found  in  the 
last  chapter. 

It  is  impossible  to  over-estimate  the  importance  of 
this  subject  as  bearing  upon  education.  The  whole 
science  of  education  may  be  said  to  be  embraced  in  the 
question  of  "  How  to  improve  the  memory  ?  "  It  includes 
not  merely  the  cultivation  of  the  different  mental 
faculties  and  furnishing  them  with  knowledge,  but  the 
training  of  the  senses,  and  the  developing  of  the  various 
physical  powers.  Every  act  in  the  training  or  cultiva- 


AUTHOR'S   PREFACE.  XXV 

tion  of  any  power  or  faculty  depends  on  memory ;  all 
the  habits  we  form  are  built  up  through  it.  If  the 
author's  views  on  this  subject  are  correct,  then  the 
whole  system  of  education  as  at  present  conducted  is 
on  a  wrong  basis.  Instead  of  the  communication  of 
knowledge  being  made  the  means  of  improving  the 
memory,  the  interests  of  the  memory  are  sacrificed  in 
order  that  it  may  be  crammed  with  as  much  knowledge 
as  possible  without  regard  to  the  permanent  injury  that 
may  thereby  be  done  to  it.  It  has  been  the  author's 
endeavour  throughout  the  volume  to  bring  out  the 
practical  bearings  of  his  views  upon  education. 

In  dealing  with  this  subject  the  author  has  found 
himself  in  a  great  measure  on  unexplored  territory. 
No  other  writer  on  Memory  or  Mnemonics  has,  so  far 
as  he  is  aware,  taken  up  the  same  ground.1  Even  the 
authors  he  has  followed,  and  to  whom  he  feels  deeply 

1  Professor  Loisette  largely  advertises  a  system  of  improving  the 
memory,  which  he  calls  "The  Physiological  Art  of  Never  For- 
getting ".  The  art  is  only  taught  or  communicated  under  a  strict 
promise  of  secrecy,  so  that  the  author  has  had  no  means  of 
becoming  acquainted  with  it ;  but  judging  from  the  Prospectus 
he  believes  that  it  proceeds  on  the  same  lines  as  here  laid  down. 
It  is  said  to  differ  from  the  hitherto  taught  systems  of  mnemonics 
in  using  none  of  the  "associations,"  "localities,"  "links,"  "pegs," 
"  keys,"  &c.,  of  the  latter  ;  but  to  be  based  on  physiological  principles 
and  to  employ  nature's  own  process  of  remembering, — statements 
which  are  likewise  applicable  to  the  present  system.  One  of  his 
pupils  mentions,  as  an  instance  of  the  advantages  he  had  derived 
from  the  system,  that  at  a  party  he  was  able  to  name  fifty  different 
articles  placed  on  a  table  in  a  private  room,  after  simply  taking  a 
deliberate  look  at  each,  while  none  of  the  others  could  master  more 
than  nineteen.  This  doubtless  he  could  not  have  done  had  it  not 
formed  an  essential  part  of  his  training,  and  this  is  exactly  the 
method  here  recommended.  The  Professor  tells  us  that  he  believes 
his  system  "  is  destined  to  work  as  great  a  revolution  in  educational 
methods  as  Harvey's  discovery  of  the  circulation  of  the  blood  in 
physiology," — but  it  is  difficult  to  see  how  this  is  to  be  effected  while 
it  is  kept  a  secret.  The  author,  too,  believes  that  his  system  will 
effect  great  improvements  in  educational  methods,  and  in  order  thai 
it  may  do  so,  he  publishes  it  without  reservation. 


AUTHOR'S   PREFACE. 

indebted  for  the  support  they  have  afforded  him,  he 
has  frequently  had  occasion  to  differ  from.  While, 
therefore,  he  has  endeavoured  to  express  his  views  with 
all  clearness,  he  trusts  he  has  also  done  so  with  modesty, 
knowing  how  liable  one  is  to  err  in  such  circumstances, 
and  how  little  one  individual  mind  can  do  towards  per- 
fecting the  knowledge  of  such  a  subject,  which  calls 
for  the  combined  labour  of  many  minds  working  in 
different  fields, — in  philosophy,  in  physiology,  in  educa- 
tion, &c. 

LONDON,  January,  18881 


CONTENTS, 


CHAPTER  I. 
MEMORY  :  WHAT  IT  is 


CHAPTER  IT. 
MATTER  AND  MIND      ......        •       •       •         47 

CHAPTER  HI. 
THE  BODY   •••       ......       •»         64 

CHAPTER  IV. 
THE  SENSES        ..........       125 

CHAPTER  V. 
MENTAL  IMAGES  .......       •       •       •       202 

CHAPTER  VL 
MIND,  CONSCIOUS  AND  UNCONSCIOUS  .  •       •       •       •       227 


CHAPTER 
ATTENTION  «...        .....       •       •        251 


CHAPTER 
ASSOCIATION  OF  IDEAS        ....«•••       271 

CHAPTER  IX. 
MEMORY:  How  TO  IMPROVE  IT.       ••••••        289 

INDIUC,       •       •       •        *        «  »       t        •        t     '  335 


MEMOET. 


'CHAPTER  I. 
MEMORY:  WHAT  IT  is. 

u  That  we  should  have  it  in  our  power  to  recall  past  sensations  and  thoughts, 
and  make  them  again  present,  as  it  were :  that  a  circumstance  of  our  former  life 
should  in  respect  of  us  be  no  more,  and  yet  occur  to  us,  from  time  to  time,  dressed 
out  in  colours  so  lively  as  to  enable  us  to  examine  it,  and  judge  of  it  as  if  it  were 
still  an  object  of  sense ; — these  are  facts  whereof  we  every  day  have  experience,  and 
which,  therefore,  we  overlook  as  things  of  course ;  but  surely  nothing  is  more  won- 
derful or  more  inexplicable/' — Dr.  James  Seattle. 

"  So  necessary  and  so  excellent  a  faculty  is  the  memory  of  man  that  all  other 
abilities  of  the  mind  borrow  from  hence  their  beauty  and  perfection.  ...  In  a 
word,  there  is  neither  knowledge,  nor  arts,  nor  sciences  without  memory ;  nor  can 
there  be  any  improvement  of  mankind  in  virtue,  or  morals,  or  the  practice  of  religion 
without  the  assistance  and  influence  of  this  power."— Dr.  Isaac  Watts. 

"  It  seems  that  we  owe  to  memory  almost  all  that  we  either  have  or  are ;  that 
our  ideas  and  conceptions  are  its  work,  and  that  our  every  perception,  thought, 
and  movement  is  derived  from  this  source.  Memory  collects  the  countless  pheno- 
mena of  our  existence  into  a  single  whole.  .  .  .  Our  consciousness  would  be 
broken  up  into  as  many  fragments  as  we  have  lived  seconds  but  for  the  binding  and 
Unifying  force  of  memory."— Dr.  E.  Bering. 

MEMOEY  is  the  most  important  and  wonderful  of 
all  our  faculties.1  It  is  that  in  each  individual 
which  records  what  is  constantly  passing  in  his  mind,, 
and  treasures  it  up  so  that  it  may  afterwards  be  recalled 
at  will.*  Sir  William  Hamilton  calls  it  "the  faculty 
possessed  by  the  mind  of  preserving  what  has  once 
been  present  to  consciousness,  so  that  it  may  again  be 
recalled  and  represented  in  consciousness'1.2 

1  Memory  is  "  designated  by  Kant  the  most  wonderful  of  the 
faculties".— Dr.  Pick. 

2  "  It  is  that  faculty  which  enables  us  to  treasure  up  and  pre- 
serve for  future  use  the  knowledge  we  acquire." — Dugald  Stewart. 
"  Memory  is  as  it  were  the  storehouse  of  our  ideas;  for  the  narrow 


2  MEMORY. 

Unless  tlio  m'ntl  possessed  the  power  of  treasuring 
up  and  recalling  its  past  experiences,  no  knowledge 
of  any  kind  could  be  acquired.  If  every  sensation, 
thought,  or  emotion  passed  entirely  from  the  mind 
the  moment  it  ceased  to  be  present,  then  it  would  be 
as  if  it  had  not  been ;  and  it  could  not  be  recognised  or 
named  should  it  happen  to  return.1  Such  an  one  would 
not  only  be  without  knowledge, — without  experience 
gathered  from  the  past, — but  without  purpose,  aim,  or 
plan  regarding  the  future,  for  these  imply  knowledge 
and  require  memory.  Even  voluntary  motion  or  motion 
for  a  purpose  could  have  no  existence  without  memory, 
for  memory  is  involved  in  every  purpose.2  Not  only 
the  learning  of  the  scholar,  but  the  inspiration  of  the 
poet,  the  genius  of  the  painter  the  heroism  of  the 
warrior,  all  depend  on  memory.  Nay,  even  conscious- 
ness itself  could  have  no  existence  without  memory, 
for  every  act  of  consciousness  involves  a  change  from 
a  past  state  to  a  present ;  and  did  the  past  state  vanish 
the  moment  it  was  past,  there  could  be  no  conscious- 
ness of  change.8  Memory,  therefore,  may  be  said  to 

mind  of  man  not  being  capable  of  having  many  ideas  under  view 
and  contemplation  at  once,  it  was  necessary  to  have  a  repository  to 
lay  up  those  ideas  which  at  another  time  it  might  make  use  of." — 
John  Locke.  "  Memory  is  the  magazine  in  which  are  deposited  the 
sensations,  facts,  and  ideas,  whose  different  combinations  form 
knowledge." — Helvetius. 

1  "  The  senses  give  us  information  of  things  only  as  they  exist  in 
the  present  moment ;  and  this  information,  if  it  were  not  preserved 
by  memory,  would  vanish  instantly  and  leave  us  as  ignorant  as  if  it 
had  never  been."— Dr.  T.  Reid. 

2  "  All  our  voluntary  powers  are  of  the  nature  of  memory ; "  and 
"in  morbid  affections  of  the  memory  the  voluntary  actions  suffer  a 
like  change  and  imperfection". — Dr.  D.  Hartley. 

8  "  Consciousness  supposes  memory ;  and  we  are  only  conscious  as 
we  are  able  to  connect  and  contrast  one  instance  of  our  intellectual 
existence  with  another." — Sir  W.  Hamilton.  "We  could  not  dis- 
criminate two  successive  impressions  if  the  first  did  not  persist 
mentally  to  be  contrasted  with  the  second." — Prof.  Bain. 


WHAT  IT  IS.  3 

be  involved  in  all  conscious  existence— -a  property  of 
every  conscious  being.1 

But  while  everyone  must  thus  of  necessity  possess 
some  degree  of  memory,  there  are  few  or  none  that 
possess  it  in  that  degree  that  they  might  and  should 
do.2  The  possessor  of  a  good  memory  is  rare,  while 
persons  with  weak  and  unreliable  memories  are,  un- 
fortunately, but  too  common.  They  may  not  be  other- 
wise deficient  in  natural  parts,  but  their  memories  are 
not  sufficiently  strbng  for  anything  to  impress  them 
deeply  or  for  any  leJagth  of  time.  All  the  usual  im- 
pulses to  action  may  be  in  full  force  or  even  in  excess, 
but  they  lack  the  wisdom  or  knowledge  necessary  in 
order  to  act  rightly  or  with  a  due  regard  to  results. 
They  act  usually  upon  the  spur  of  the  moment  and 
are  constantly  making  mistakes.  Even  the  teachings 
of  experience  are  in  a  great  measure  lost  upon  them 
from  lack  of  persistence.  Such  persons  are  never  long 
in  one  frame  of  mind :  their  joys  and  griefs,  their  loves 
and  hates,  their  purposes  and  ambitions,  are  all  short- 
lived. Having  no  fixed  or  settled  purpose  to  guide 
them,  they  are  uncertain  in  their  movements,  and 
their  conduct  cannot  be  depended  on.  In  character 
they  are  inconstant,  flighty,  unstable,  changeable  as 
the  wind,  unimpressible  as  water.  They  are  like  the 
man  beholding  his  face  in  a  glass,  of  whom  we  read 
that  "  he  goeth  away  and  straightway  forgetteth  what 
manner  of  man  he  was".8 

1  "  From  the  Archangel  to  the  brute  we  conceive  that  something 
analogous  to  an  organ  of  memory  must  be  possessed  by  each." — Prof. 
Druwimond. 

•  "  In  some  persons  the  mind  retains  the  characters  drawn  on  it 
like  marble,  in  others  like  freestone,  and  in  others  little  better  than 
sand." — John  Locke. 

•"When  memory  ifl  preternaturally  defective,  experience  and 


4  MEMOET, 

A  good  memory,  then,  is  a  matter  of  the  very  highest 
importance,  and  no  pains  should  be  spared  in  order  to 
acquire  it.1  Its  value  consists  in  this,  that  it  treasures 
up  the  experiences  we  have  had  in  the  past,  so  that  we 
can  afterwards  recall  them  at  will.  We  cannot  in  very 
deed  live  over  again  our  past  years,  we  cannot  bring 
back  yesterday  when  it  is  gone,  but  by  means  of 
memory  we  can  recall  the  mental  impressions  which 
these  have  produced  in  us,  so  that  we  can  examine 
and  judge  of  them,  gather  knowledge  and  experience 
from  them,  and  even  derive  a  measure  of  pleasure  and 
satisfaction  from  their  contemplation. »  Thus  while,  in 
a  sense,  the  past  when  once  past  is  gone  for  ever,  in 
another  it  is  still  present  with  us,  instructing,  guiding, 
warning,  encouraging  us.  It  enters  very  largely  into 
our  present  existence,  constitutes  the  greater  part  of 
our  intellectual  being,  and  builds  up  our  personality.2 

knowledge  will  be  deficient  in  proportion,  and  imprudent  conduct 
and  absurd  opinion  are  the  necessary  consequence." — Dr.  Beattie. 
"A  character  .  .  .  retaining  a  feeble  hold  of  bitter  experience 
or  genuine  delight,  and  unable  to  revive  afterwards  the  impressions 
of  the  time,  is  in  reality  the  victim  of  an  intellectual  weakness  under 
the  guise  of  a  moral  weakness." — Prof.  Bain. 

1 "  To  have  constantly  before  us  an  estimate  of  the  things  that 
affect  us,  true  to  the  reality,  is  one  precious  condition  for  having 
our  will  always  stimulated  with  an  accurate  reference  to  our  happi- 
ness."— Prof.  Bain.  "  The  thoroughly  educated  man,  in  this  respect, 
is  he  that  can  carry  with  him  at  all  times  the  exact  estimate  of  wrhat 
he  has  enjoyed  or  suffered  from  every  object  that  has  ever  affected 
him,  and  in  case  of  encounter  can  present  to  the  enemy  as  strong  a 
front  as  if  he  were  under  the  genuine  impression." — Ditto.  "A 
full  and  accurate  memory,  for  pleasure  or  for  pain,  is  the  intellectual 
basis  both  of  prudence  as  regards  self  and  sympathy  as  regards 
others."— Ditto. 

3  "  One  of  the  essential  requisites  of  continued  existence  is  the 
capability  of  retaining  some  sort  of  hold  upon  the  past." — Prof. 
DrummoncL  "  By  a  mind  destitute  of  the  faculty  of  memory  neither 
the  ideas  of  time,  nor  of  motion,  nor  of  personal  identity  could  pos- 
sibly have  been  formed." — D.  Stewart.  "  Memory  gives  us  the  per- 


WHAT  IT  IS.  5 

This  constant  presentation  of  the  past  serves  a  very 
important  purpose  in  our  mental  economy.  It  throws 
light  upon  the  present  and  guides  us  with  regard  to  the 
future.  Without  the  past  our  present  ideas  would  be 
devoid  of  all  meaning,  all  intelligibility.  It  is  only  as 
our  past  ideas  and  sensations  come  to  interpret  and 
explain  our  present  experiences  that  we  can  know  or 
understand  them.1  The  sight  of  a  stone,  a  tree,  or  a 
book  would  convey  little  meaning  to  the  mind  did  not 
memory  supply  previous  impressions  of  the  same  kind, 
which  serve  to  throw  light  upon  it,  as  the  words  of  a 
book  would  be  unintelligible  did  not  memory  furnish 
us  with  the  several  meanings  to  be  attached  to  them.8 

suasion  of  personal  identity  during  all  the  changes  which  may  take 
place  in  the  condition  of  the  body,  or  in  the  temper  and  habits,  and 
external  circumstances." — Isaac  Taylor.  "The  present  state  is  as- 
sociated with  others  which,  thrown  back  and  localised  in  the  past, 
constitute  at  each  moment  what  we  regard  as  our  personality." — 
Th.  Bibot. 

1 "  This  arm-chair,  three  paces  from  me,  gives  my  eyes  the  sensa- 
tion only  of  a  green  patch  differently  shaded,  according  to  its  different 
parts ;  still  from  this  simple  visual  indication  (through  previous 
sensations)  I  conclude  that  it  is  solid,  soft,  with  a  certain  magnitude 
and  form,  and  that  I  may  rest  myself  in  it." — H.  Taine. 

2  "  It  is  frequent  for  men  to  say  that  they  see  words,  and  notions, 
and  things  in  reading  a  book,  whereas,  in  strictness,  they  see  only 
the  characters  which  suggest  words,  notions,  and  things." — Bishop 
Berkeley.  "In  looking  at  a  page  of  print  or  manuscript  ...  we 
seldom  recollect  that  nothing  is  perceived  by  the  eye  but  a  multitude 
of  black  strokes  drawn  upon  white  paper,  and  that  it  is  our  own 
acquired  habits  which  communicate  to  these  strokes  the  whole  of 
that  significancy  whereby  they  are  distinguished  from  the  unmeaning 
scrawling  of  an  infant  or  a  changeling." — D.  Stewart.  Reading  "  is 
the  memory  of  the  thing  signified,  incessantly  evoked  by  the  graphic 


Luys. 

steps  can  be  recalled",  it  would  seem  absurd  to  say  that  when  the 
reader  takes  in  at  a  glance  the  sentence  « This  is  true,'  he  not  only 
classifies  each  word  with  the  before  known  like  words,  but  each 
letter  with  the  before  known  like  letters." — H.  Spencer. 

a 


6  MEMOBT. 

But  it  is  as  serving  to  guide  and  direct  onr  future 
conduct,  to  give  us  judgment,  accuracy,  and  skill  in 
carrying  out  what  we  purpose  or  intend  to  do,  that  the 
value  of  a  good  memory  is  most  seen.1  In  regard  to 
any  line  of  conduct  or  course  of  action  that  may  lie 
before  us,  it  is  evidently  of  the  greatest  importance 
that  we  should  have  present  to  us,  in  the  mind,  the 
memory  of  previous  actions  of  the  same  or  a  similar 
kind,  for  our  guidance  and  direction.  If  we  have  par- 
sued  one  course  of  conduct  and  it  has  turned  out 
wrong,  the  remembrance  of  this  should  lead  us  to 
the  adoption  of  a  different  course  the  next  time,  which 
may,  peradventure,  turn  out  right ;  and,  on  the  other 
hand,  if  the  course  we  have  previously  followed  be  the 
right  one,  the  memory  of  this  will  not  fail  to  strengthen 
and  encourage  us  to  continue  in  it,  while  the  effect  of 
each  repetition,  which  is  but  another  form  of  memory, 
will  be  to  render  each  succeeding  act  more  easy  and 
natural  than  the  preceding  one.2 

Much  of  the  pleasure  and  enjoyment  of  the  present 
is  derived  from  the  memory  of  the  past.  "  The  happi- 
ness of  our  later  life,"  says  Professor  Bain,  "is  in  great 

1  "  The  great  purpose  to  which  this  faculty  is  subservient  is  to 
enable  us  to  collect  and  to  retain  for  the  future  regulation  of  our 
conduct  the  results  of  our  past  experience." — D.  Stewart.     il  If  a  man 
of  good  genius  and  sagacity  could  but  retain  and  survey  all  those 
numerous,  those  wise  and  beautiful  ideas  at  once  which  had  ever 
passed  through  his  thoughts  upon  any  one  subject,  how  admiiably 
would  he  be  furnished  to  pass  a  just  judgment  about  all  present 
objects  and  occurrences." — Isaac  Watts. 

2  "After  each  action  it  (a  muscle)  is  better  prepared  for  action, 
more  disposed  to  a  repetition  of  the  same  work,  and  readier  to  prac- 
tise a  given  organic  process.  .  .  .  The  organic  memory  thus  formed 
resembles  the  psychological  memory  in  all  but  one  point,  the  absence 
of  consciousness." — Th.  Ribot.     "In  every  nerve-cell  there  is  memory, 
and  not  only  so,  but  there  is  memory  in  every  organic  element  of  the 
body."— Dr.  H.  Maudsley. 


WHAT  IT  IS.  7 

part  made  up  of  the  pleasurable  memories  of  early 
years/'1  As  a  general  rule,  the  remembrance  of  past 
pleasures  is  pleasant,  and,  as  has  been  well  said,  he 
who  imparts  an  hour's  real  enjoyment  to  another 
increases  the  sum  of  his  happiness  while  the  memory 
of  it  lasts.2  The  dweller  in  a  foreign  land  often  goes 
back  lovingly  in  thought  to  the  scenes  and  incidents 
that  in  memory  cluster  round  his  early  home. 

Frequently  the  remembrance  of  experiences  that  were 
not  at  all  pleasant,  but  disagreeable  or  painful  at  the 
time,  become  sources  of  pleasure  and  satisfaction  as 
they  are  recalled,  from  having  been  productive  of  good 
or  beneficial  results.  Thus  the  prosperous  man  of 
business  looks  back  with  pleasure  on  the  difficulties  and 
hardships  of  his  early  years,  by  which  were  instilled 
into  him  those  principles  of  carefulness,  endurance,  and 
self-reliance  that  have  so  greatly  contributed  to  his 
after  success.8  Nor  is  the  remembrance  of  pain,  suf- 
fering, distress  always  without  certain  feelings  of  plea- 
sure, as  it  presents  itself  to  the  mind  under  other  or 
happier  circumstances.  Even  in  the  midst  of  our 
deepest  sorrow  for  the  loss  of  a  much-loved  friend 
there  mingles  a  feeling  of  pleasure  as  we  recall  his 

1  "  I  always  figured  age  to  myself  as  a  much  pleasanter  season  of 
life  than  our  earlier  years,  and  having  attained  it,  my  expectations 
are  almost  surpassed."— W.  von  Humboldt. 

2  "  In  his  hour  of  gloom  or  despondency,  one  may  yet  enjoy  as 
vividly  as  ever  the  picture  of  some  past  delight,  or  feed  on  the 
memory  of  a  happy  moment  which,  though  long  perished  in  fact, 
can  never,  by  the  blessed  influence  of  memory,  be  lost  to  him  on 
this  side  of  the  grave." — J.  G.  Fitch.     "  If  you  make  children  happy 
now,  you  make  them  happy  twenty  years  hence  by  the  memory  of 
it." — Sydney  Smith. 

1  "Say  why  Vespasian  loved  his  Sabine  farm  ? 

Why  great  Navarre,  when  France  and  freedom  bled, 
Sought  the  low  limits  of  a  forest-shed  ?  " 

— Pleasures  of  Memory. 


8  MEMOEY. 

many  amiable  qualities,  and  we  feel  how  true  are  the 
words  of  the  poet :  "  'Tis  better  to  have  loved  and  lost 
than  never  to  have  loved  at  all".1  "  I  would  not,"  said 
the  great  Duke  of  Ormond,  on  the  death  of  his  only  son, 
"  exchange  my  dead  son  for  any  living  son  in  Christen- 
dom." Thus,  "thanks  to  a  beneficent  Creator,"  says 
Ancillon,  "  sorrow  loses  not  only  its  bitterness  but  is 
changed  even  into  a  source  of  pleasing  recollection". 

The  defects  of  memory  of  which  most  persons  com- 
plain, and  with  reason,  are  mainly,  if  not  entirely,  to 
be  attributed  to  the  ignorance  that  prevails  regarding 
its  true  principles,  and  to  the  abuse  and  neglect  to 
which  it  is  subjected  in  our  systems  of  education  and 
through  life.  The  office  of  the  memory  is  to  remember, 
and  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  if  properly  trained  and 
judiciously  treated,  it  will  remember  to  an  extent  and 
with  a  clearness  that,  with  our  present  conceptions  of 
it,  will  seem  nothing  short  of  marvellous. 

In  general  we  take  much  too  limited  and  confined  a 
view  of  the  memory.  We  usually  confine  it  to  what 
we  can  recall  or  bring  to  mind  when  we  wish  to  do  so ; 
and  if  we  fail  in  this  we  say  we  have  forgotten  it,  or 
that  it  has  escaped  our  memory.  But  everyone's 
experience  must  tell  him  that  there  is  much  in  his 
memory  that  he  cannot  recall  in  this  way, — much 
that  he  can  only  recover  after  a  laboured  search,  or 
that  he  may  search  for  in  vain  at  the  time,  but  which 
may  occur  to  him  afterwards,  when,  perhaps,  he  is  not 
thinking  about  it. 

1  "  There  is  a  real  luxury  in  grief,  because  we  cannot  think  of  the 
dear  dead  without  recalling  the  many  joyful  incidents  of  their  lives  ; 
and  thus  it  often  happens  that  the  mourner  who  is  sitting  by  the 
coffin  which  contains  all  that  was  dearest  to  him  on  earth,  wakens 
up  from  a  reverie  in  which  he  was  living  over  again  the  happiest 
iays  of  his  life." — Dr.  J.  Cunningham. 


WHAT  IT  IS.  9 

In  seeking  to  recall  a  past  thought  or  impression  we 
must  still  retain  something  of  it  in  the  memory,  OK  we 
should  not  be  able  to  recognise  it  when  it  presents 
itself,  or  to  single  it  out  from  among  a  number  of  other 
candidates  that  may  be  pressing  forward  for  recogni- 
tion.1 Indeed,  the  very  fact  that  we  seek  in  the  memory 
for  a  forgotten  idea  shows  that  we  have  some  recollec- 
tion of  it,  for,  as  St.  Augustine  very  truly  says,  "  We 
cannot  seek  in  our  memory  for  that  of  which  we  have 
no  sort  of  recollection".  "From  the  moment,"  says 
Sir  W.  Hamilton,  "  that  we  seek  aught  in  our  memory, 
we  declare  by  that  very  act  that  we  have  not  altogether 
forgotten  it ;  we  still  hold  of  it,  as  it  were,  a  part,  and 
by  this  part  which  we  hold,  we  seek  that  which  we  do 
not  hold."  In  all  these  cases  the  memory  has  a  certain 
hold  of  the  ideas,  but  they  are  not  sufficiently  impressed 
upon  it  to  be  readily  or  distinctly  recalled.  In  the 
memories  of  most,  if  not  all  of  us,  probably  the  greater 
part  of  what  we  remember  is  of  this  imperfect  kind. 

There  are  many  persons  of  opinion  that  there  is  no 
such  thing  as  forgetting  anything  that  has  once  been 
consciously  in  the  mind.  "It  is,  I  believe,"  says  Dr. 
Carpenter,  "  the  general  creed  of  metaphysicians  that 
no  idea  once  funj^coniprehended  by  the  mind  ever  per- 
manently drops  out  of  it ;  while  physiologists  are  no  less 
strong  in  the  conviction  that  every  'act  records  itself  in 
some  change  in  the  brain  which  may  lead  to  its  reproduc- 
tion before  the  consciousness  at  a,ny  distance  of  time." 
"I  feel  assured,"  says  De  Quincey,  "that  there  is  no 
such  thing  as  ultimate  forgetting ;  traces  once  impressed 

i  "When  we  will  to  remember  a  $iing  we  must  remember  some- 
thing relating  to  it,  which  gives  us/ a  relative  conception  of  it." — D. 
Stewart.  "He  who  searches  for  smything  has  a  general  notion  of 
that  which  he  seeks,  otherwise  hqfr  coiild  he  recognise  it  when  found 
?"— Plato. 


10  MEMORY. 

upon  the  memory  are  indestructible;  a  thousand 
accidents  may  and  will  interpose  a  veil  between  our 
present  consciousness  and  the  secret  inscriptions  on 
the  mind.  Accidents  of  the  same  sort  will  also  rend 
the  veil.  But  alike,  whether  veiled  or  unveiled,  the 
inscription  remains  for  ever." 

Between  this  property  of  never  forgetting  anything 
that  has  once  been  in  the  mind  and  what  we  all  feel  to 
be  the  actual  state  of  our  memories  there  is  a  wide  gulf. 
To  explain  the  nature  of  this  and  to  show  in  what  it 
consists  will  fall  to  be  more  fully  treated  of  afterwards. 
In  the  meantime  we  would  remark  that  in  memory,  as 
commonly  understood,  we  have  two  distinct  parts  or 
faculties — the  retentive  and  the  reproductive  ;  the  one 
being  the  power  of  retaining  what  has  once  been  pre- 
sent to  consciousness,  the  other  that  by  which  it  is 
again  brought  before  consciousness  in  recollection. 
Though  commonly  used  to  include  both,  the  term 
memory  is  strictly  applicable  only  to  the  former  of 
these,  or  the  retentive  faculty.1  This  is  much  more 
extensive  than  the  reproductive  faculty,  for  we  retain 
or  hold  in  the  memory  much  more  than  we  can  at  any 
time  recall.  That  we  can  readily  recall  or  remember 
some  things  and  not  others  depends  upon  a  variety  of 
circumstances,  bur  especially  upon  the  degree  of  atten- 
tion that  is  bestowed  upon  the  original  impression.  It 
is  evident  that  if  we  single  out  an  impression  or  thought 
by  giving  a  greater  than  ordinary  degree  of  attention  to 
it,  or  what  is  the  same  thing,  if  it  strikes  us  very  for- 
cibly or  is  several  times  repeated,  it  will  be  more  deeply 

1  "That  the  word  memory  principally  and  properly  denotes  the 
power  the  mind  possesses  of  retaining  hold  of  the  knowledge  it  has 
acquired,  is  generally  admitted  b$;  philologers,  and  is  not  denied  by 
philosophers." — Sir  W.  Hamilton. 

\ 


WHAT  IT  IS.  11 

impressed  upon  the  mind  than  it  otherwise  would  be. 
The  bad  memories  of  which  most  persons  have  occasion 
to  complain  are  mainly  owing  to  their  not  giving  that 
degree  of  attention  to  the  original  impression  that  is 
necessary  to  fix  it  in  the  memory. 

While  attention  is  the  principle  by  which  we  fix  any- 
thing in  the  memory,  association  is  that  by  which  we 
recall  or  bring  again  before  consciousness  anything  that 
has  been  there  before.1  All  our  ideas  are  associated 
with  other  ideas,  and  by  means  of  these  they  are  re- 
called. Did  an  idea  exist  in  the  mind  unassociated 
with  any  other  idea  it  could  not  be  recalled.  Accord- 
ing to  the  strength  of  the  association,  and  the  character 
of  the  ideas  with  which  the  association  is  formed,  will 
be  the  power  of  recall. 

If  then  we  improve  and  strengthen  the  faculty  of 
attention,  and  judiciously  attend  to  the  association  of 
our  ideas,  we  shall  bring  the  reproductive  power  of  the 
mind  nearer  to  an  equality  with  the  retentive,  and  so 
vastly  improve  the  natural  memory.  Indeed  there 
seems  no  reason  in  the  nature  of  things  why  we  should 
forget  anything  that  has  once  been  in  the  mind,  or 
that  we  should  not  be  able  to  recall  ,;t  when  we  wish 
to  do  so.  That  there  is  nothing  impossible  in  this  view 
is  shown  by  the  fact  that  there  have  been  men  who 
have  had  such  memories.  Thus  it  rs  reported  of  Pascal 
"that  till  the  decay  of  his  health  had  impaired  his 
memory,  he  forgot  nothing  of.  what  he  had  done, 
read,  or  thought  in  any  part,  of  his  natural  age". 

l"Next  to  the  effect  of  attention  is  the  remarkable  influence 
produced  upon  memory  by  association.  .  .  .  The  principle  of  associa- 
tion is  founded  upon  a  remarkable'  tendency,  by  which  two  or  more 
facts  or  conceptions  which  have  /been  contemplated  together,  or  in 
immediate  succession,  become  so  connected  in  the  mind  that  one  of 
them  at  a  future  time  recalls  the  others," — Dr.  Abercrombie. 

/ 


12     •  MEMORY. 

— John  Locke.     The  same  is  recorded  of  Grotius  and 
others.1 

Though  it  is  convenient  to  speak  of  the  memory,  as 
is  usually  done,  as  if  it  were  a  single  faculty,  this  is  not 
strictly  or  properly  the  case,  for  it  is  really  a  property 
or  quality  of  all  the  faculties,  each  having  its  own 
individual  memory,  though  there  are  certain  principles 
common  to  all  of  them.2  As  each  has  its  separate 
action,  so  each  has  its  distinct  memory,  which  is  simply 
a  record  of  what  each  has  done  or  experienced.  Thus 
the  eye  records  what  it  sees,  the  ear  what  it  hears,  and 
the  other  senses  what  come  within  their  several  spheres, 
as  well  as  the  intellect  what  it  thinks,  the  emotions 
what  they  feel,  the  will  what  it  commands,  and  the 
muscles  what  they  do.  Not  only  so,  but  each  different 
class  of  sensations  of  any  of  the  senses,  each  form  of 
activity  of  any  of  the  faculties,  every  different  kind  of 
voluntary  movement  of  any  part  of  the  body  has  its 
distinct  memory.  Wherever  we  have  distinction  of 

1  "Grotius  and  Pascal  forgot  nothing  they  had  ever  read  or 
thought." — Sir  W.  Hamilton.  Cardinal  Mezzofanti,  who  is  said  to 
have  known  more  than  a  hundred  different  languages,  used  to 
declare  that  he  never  forgot  a  word  that  he  had  once  learnt,  and 
to  this,  doubtless,  was  owing  his  power  as  a  linguist.  It  is  related 
of  Dr.  John  Leyden  "that  after  he  had  gone  to  Calcutta,  a  case 
occurred  where  a  great  deal  turned  on  the  exact  wording  of  an  Act 
of  Parliament,  of  whicl  ,  however,  a  copy  was  not  to  be  found  in  the 
Presidency.  Leyden,  \vsio,  before  leaving  home,  had  had  occasion 
to  read  over  the  act,  undertook  to  supply  it  from  memory  ;  and  so 
accurate  was  his  transcript  that  when,  nearly  a  year  after,  a  printed 
copy  was  obtained  from  1^  gland,  it  was  found  to  be  identical  with 
what  Leyden  had  dictated." 

8  Memory  "is  not  a  special  faculty  beside  and  apart  from  the 
original  powers  of  the  soul,"  ut  "consists  simply  and  solely  in  the 
peculiarity  which  they  possess  cf  retaining  to  a  greater  or  less  degree 
the  stimulants  received  by  thei>\". — Dr.  Beneke.  "  Memory  may  be 
resolved  into  memories  just  as  tve  life  of  an  organism  may  be  re- 
solved into  the  lives  of  the  organs,  the  tissues,  the  a.natonuca.1  ele- 
ments which  compose  it," — Th,  MM, 

\ 


WHAT  IT  IS.  13 

action,  there  we  have  distinction  of  memory, — which  is 
the  action's  record,  the  traces  left  of  its  activity ;  and 
where  the  action  is  most  developed,  there  the  memory 
is  strongest.1 

A  leading  error  that  arises  from  regarding  the  memory 
as  a  single  faculty  is  the  belief  that,  in  whatever  direc- 
tion we  exercise  it,  we  improve  it  as  a  whole.  This, 
however,  is  very  far  from  being  the  case.  If  we  exer- 
cise it  only  in  one  direction,  we  improve  it  only  in  that 
direction.  The  exercise  of  the  ear  in  hearing  does  not 
improve  the  power  of  vision,  nor  while  we  strengthen 
the  memory  for  sounds  do  we  improve  that  for  sights. 
Even  in  a  single  sense  or  faculty  we  find  different 
.  forms  and  degrees  of  memory, — as  in  sight  for  persons, 
places,  forms,  colours,  and  the  like.  Hence  we  may 
cultivate  the  memory  for  persons  without  at  all  im- 
proving that  for  places,  and  a  good  memory  for  colours 
may  afford  little  help  towards  the  remembrance  of 
forms.2  In  like  manner,  a  musician  may  be  able  to 
remember  and  reproduce  a  beautiful  air  that  he  has 
heard  only  once,  while  he  may  be  unable  to  remember 
and  repeat  half  a  dozen  or  a  dozen  wo#5s  after  once 
hearing  them. 

Another  error  that  may  be  traced  to  the  same  cause 
is  that  of  regarding  the  memory  only  pr  chiefly  as  it  is 
manifested  in  its  lower  forms,  and  hence  depreciating 

1  w  The  same  act  that  favours  discrimination  favours  retention. , . . 
No  law  of  the  intellect  appears  to  be  more  Certain  than  the  law  that 
connects  our  discriminating  power  with  our  retentive  power.     In 
whatever  class  of  subjects  our  discrimination  is  great — colours,  forms, 
tones,  tastes — in  that  class  our  retention  /is  great." — Prof.  Bain. 

2  "  Does  not  daily  observation  show  us  that  some  persons  remem- 
ber forms  most  easily,  while  others  ha^e  a  special  facility  for  recalling 
colours." — Th.  Eibot.     "Some  remenyber  the  shapes  of  objects,  and 
yet  have  the  greatest  difficulty  in  rfyonembering  their  colour,  and  80 
on,»-&  Verdon. 


14  MEMORY. 

or  undervaluing  its  importance.  Thus  many  speak  of 
a  good  memory  as  if  it  were  a  matter  of  mere  secondary 
consideration,  and  not  a  few  hold  that  when  highly 
cultivated  it  interferes  with  the  efficiency  of  certain  of 
the  other  faculties,  particularly  the  imagination  or  the 
reasoning  powers.  "  Seldom,"  says  one,  "  are  a  power- 
ful imagination,  a  sound  understanding,  and  a  clear 
discernment  united  with  a  vigorous  and  retentive  me- 
mory." "  A  great  or  comprehensive  -memory  is  seldom 
connected  with  a  good  judgment." — Lord  Kames.  "Mere 
memory/'  says  Dr.  Mortimer  Granville,  "is  not  either 
a  very  exalted  or  an  intellectual  faculty.  The  lower 
animals  and  many  idiots  excel  intelligent  men  in  this 
quality — the  receptive  and  retentive  plasticity  of  brain." 
Sir  William  Hamilton  mentions  the  case  of  a  Corsican 
who  was  said  to  be  able  to  repeat  36,000  names  after 
once  hearing  them ;  "  but,"  says  Gregorovius,  from 
whom  he  takes  his  information,  "  he  produced  nothing, 
his  memory  had  killed  all  his  creative  power.  ...  It 
is  with  the  precious  gift  of  memory  as  with  all  other 
gifts,  they  are  the  curse  of  the  gods  when  they  give  too 
much."  l 

The  memory  for  names  and  words  is  the  lowest  form 
of  memory,  ar^l  fools  and  even  idiots  are  sometimes 
found  to  manifest  it  in  a  very  remarkable  degree.2 

1  "A  good  memory,  which  is  in  itself  so  essential  an  accompani- 
ment of  profound  and  accurate  judgment,  has  fallen  into  <~  sort  of 
proverbial  disrepute,  as  if  unfriendly  to  judgment,  or  indicative  of 
a  defect  in  this  nobler  part  of  our  intellectual  constitution.  „  .  . 
It  is  not  a  good  memory,,  in  its  best  sense,  as  a  rich  and  retentive 
store  of  conceptions,  that\is  unfriendly  to  intellectual  excellence, 
— poetic  or  philosophic, — but  a  memory  of  which  the  predominant 
tendency  is  to  suggest  objects  or  images  which  existed  before,  in 
the  very  order  in  which,  as  objects  or  images,  they  existed  before, 
according  to  the  merely  imitative  relations  of  contiguity." — Dr.  T. 
Brown. 

8  "  A  person  may  have  a  very  strong,  capacious,  and  retentive 

\ 


WHAT  IT  IS.  15 

Hence  to  judge  of  the  value  and  importance  of  memory 
simply  from  the  lower  aspects  of  it  is  manifestly  unfair. 
The  memory  for  words  is  only  one  form  of  memory, 
besides  which  there  are  memories  for  ideas,  for  processes 
of  reasoning,  for  creations  of  the  imagination;  and  to  say 
that  memory  interferes  with  the  efficiency  of  any  of  the 
other  faculties  is  to  regard  as  one  thing  what  is  in 
reality  many  things,  and  to  confound  the  lower  forms 
of  it  with  the  higher.1  The  memory  of  any  individual 
faculty  cannot  be  too  strong  for  the  efficiency  of  that 
faculty;  as,  for  instance,  the  memory  for  words  for  what 
may  be  called  the  word  faculty,  the  memory  for  processes 
of  reasoning  for  the  reasoning  faculty,  or  the  memory 
for  creations  of  the  imagination  for  the  imaginative 
faculty.  The  power  of  creating  depends  upon  the  power 
of  remembering,  and  he  who  has  most  enriched  his 
mind  with  the  stores  of  nature  and  of  art  will  always 

memory  where  the  judgment  is  very  poor  and  weak,  as  sometimes 
happens  to  those  who  are  but  one  degree  above  an  idiot,  who  have 
manifested  an  amazing  strength  and  extent  of  memory." — I.  Watts. 
Canon  Fearon  mentions  a  man  in  his  father's  parish  "who  could 
remember  the  day  when  every  person  had  been  buried  in  the 
parish  for  thirty-five  years,  and  could  repeat,  with  unvarying  accu- 
racy, the  name  and  age  of  the  deceased  and  the  mourners  at  the 
funeral".  But,  "out  of  the  line  of  burials,  he  had  not  one  idea, 
could  not  give  an  intelligent  reply  to  a  single  question,  nor  be 
trusted  even  to  feed  himself".  "  I  have  heard  a  boy  whose  faculties 
were,  in  other  respects,  rather  below  the  ordinary  pitch  repeat  the 
greatest  part  of  a  sermon  after  once  hearing  it." — Dr.  J.  Beattie. 
K.  Verdon  refers  to  "  the  idiot  mentioned  by  Mrs.  Somerville,  who 
could  repeat  a  sermon  verbatim,  indicating  also  where  the  minister 
blew  his  nose  or  coughed  during  the  performance". 

1  "  The  man  of  genius  sometimes  appears  to  want  memory  only 
from  the  too  confined  signification  given  to  the  word  memory,  in 
restraining  it  to  the  remembrance  of  names,  dates,  persons,  and 
places,  for  which  the  man  of  genius  has  no  curiosity,  and  often  finds 
that  here  his  memory  fails  him.  But  comprehending  in  the  signifi- 
cation of  this  word  the  remembrance  of  ideas,  images,  and  reasonings, 
none  of  them  is  deficient.  .  .  .  There  is  110  such  thing  as  geniua 
without  memory." — Hdvetiua. 


16  MEMOBY. 

have  the  most  fertile  and  readiest  invention.  "  The 
richer  the  memory,  and  consequently  the  greater  the 
number  of  images  that  may  arise  to  the  poet,  and  of 
powers  and  effects  that  may  arise  to  the  philosopher, 
the  more  copious  in  both  cases  will  be  the  suggestions 
of  analogy  which  constitute  poetic  invention  or  philo- 
sophic discovery,  and  the  more  copious  the  suggestions 
of  analogy  may  be,  the  richer  and  more  diversified,  it 
is  evident,  must  be  the  inventive  power  of  the  mind." — 
Dr.  Thomas  Brown)- 

We  may  distinguish  three  different  degrees  or  forms 
of  memory.  The  first  or  lowest  is  what  may  be  called 
11  local"  or  "verbal"  memory,  "that  is,"  says  Dr. 
Abercrombie,  "the  power  of  remembering  facts  in  the 
order  in  which  they  occurred,  or  words  in  the  order  in 
which  they  were  addressed  to  the  individual".  This 
"  kind  of  memory,"  he  continues,  "  is  often  the  more 
ready,  and  is  that  which  generally  makes  the  greater 

1  "  Memory,  far  from  being  incompatible  with  genius,  seems  even 
to  be  necessary  to  its  utmost  perfection  for  those  happy  exertions  of 
intellect  which  confer  immortality  upon  their  authors.  ...  If  we 
look  around  us  at  those  individuals  who  have  acquired  eminence 
as  men  of  genius,  or  examine  into  the  endowments  of  those  who 
have  formerly  been  famed  for  their  intellectual  exertions,  we  shall 
uniformly  find  that  a  retentive  and  capacious  memory  proved  the 
basis  upon  which  their  literary  fame  was  reared." — Pro/.  Scott. 
"  A  strong  memory  and  a  fertile  invention  frequently  go  together  ; 
the  former  being  of  the  utmost  utility  to  the  latter.  If  a  man  shall 
sit  down  to  invent  he  will  find  that  a  complete  retrospect  of  all  he 
has  seen,  heard,  or  read  relative  to  any  science  will  afford  him  the 
greatest  assistance  in  his  farther  inventions  or  improvements  in  that 
science." — Dr.  W.  Hooper.  "We  are  indebted  to  the  mechanical 
genius  of  Watt  for  the  invention  of  the  steam  engine ;  but  the  genius 
of  Watt  consisted  in  the  remembrance  of  a  variety  of  objects,  facts, 
principles,  requirements,  and  appliances  suggested  to  his  mind  by 
the  sight  of  a  steaming  tea-kettle." — W.  Stokes.  "It  is  in  vain  for 
painters  or  poets  to  endeavour  to  invent  without  materials  on  which 
the  mind  may  work  and  from  which  inventions  must  originate.  .  .  . 
It  is  by  being  conversant  with  the  inventions  of  others  that  we  learn 
to  invent." — Dr.  W,  B.  Carpenter, 


WHAT  IT  IS.  17 

show,  both  on  account  of  its  readiness  and  likewise 
because  the  kind  of  effects  with  which  it  is  chiefly 
conversant  are  usually  those  most  in  request  in  com- 
mon conversation".1  "  It  is  in  common  conversation 
chiefly  that  we  judge  of  the  excellency  of  the  memory 
of  others,  and  that  we  feel  our  own  defect  of  it ;  and  the 
species  of  relation  which  forms  by  far  the  most  im- 
portant tie  of  things  in  ordinary  discourse  is  that  of 
previous  contiguity.  We  talk  of  things  which  hap- 
pened at  certain  times  and  in  certain  places,  and  he 
who  remembers  these  best  seems  to  us  to  have  the 
best  memory.  ,  .  .  The  most  ignorant  of  the  vulgar, 
in  describing  a  certain  event,  pour  out  a  number  of 
suggestions  of  contiguity  which  may  astonish  us  indeed, 
though  they  are  a  proof  not  that  they  remember  more, 
but  only  that  their  prevailing  suggestions  take  place 
according  to  one  almost  exclusive  relation.  It  is  im- 
possible to  listen  to  a  narrative  of  the  most  simple 
events  by  one  of  the  common  people,  who  are  unaccus- 
tomed to  pay  much  attention  to  events  but  as  they 
occur  together,  without  being  struck  with  a  readiness 
of  suggestion  of  innumerable  petty  circumstances  which 
might  seem  like  superiority  of  memory,  if  we  did  not 
take  into  account  the  comparatively  small  number  of 
their  suggestions  of  a  different  class/' — Dr.  T.  Brown. 
A  remarkable  instance  of  this  kind  of  memory  is  given 
by  Shakespeare  in  the  character  of  Dame  Quickly,  as 
she  narrates  with  astonishing  minuteness  the  various 
incidents  that  occurred  at  the  time  when  Sir  John 
Falstaff  made  her  a  promise  of  marriage. 

lKThe  species  of  memory  which  excites  the  greatest  degree  of 
admiration,  in  the  ordinary  intercourse  of  society,  is  a  memory  for 
detached  and  isolated  facts ;  and  it  is  certain  that  those  men  who 
are  possessed  of  it  are  very  seldom  distinguished  by  the  higher  gifts 
of  the  mind." — D.  Stewart. 


18  MBMOEY. 

It  is  usually  in  persons  whose  minds  are  not  highlj 
cultivated,  and  whose  mental  faculties  have  not  been 
much  exercised,  that  we  find  this  kind  of  memory 
displayed  in  the  most  marked  degree.  Not  having 
been  much  called  forth*  in  its  higher  stages,  it  has 
consequently  developed  itself  more  in  this,  its  lower. 
Persons  of  this  class  will  sometimes  be  found  able  to 
perform  great  feats  of  memory,  repeating,  it  may  be, 
long  lists  of  names,  or  many  lines  of -poetry  after  once 
hearing  them,  or  a  speech,  or  a  sermon  almost  ver- 
batim, or  narrating  the  minutest  particulars  of  an 
event  that  occurred  perhaps  long  ago.1  In  general, 
however,  they  can  only  repeat  the  words  or  record  the 
incidents  as  they  actually  occurred.  They  cannot,  as 
a  rule,  leave  out  some  and  enlarge  upon  others,  nor 
can  they  readily  recur  to  an  incident-thfbt  happened  at 
a  different  time.  If  they  wish  to  recall  a  particular 
passage  in  a  speech  or  a  book,  they  may  be  unable  to 
do  so  without  commencing  at  the  begianing  and  re- 
peating down  to  it ;  and  frequently  it  would  se^n^Hhat 

1  "  People  of  very  inferior  mental  gifts  often  have  a~  iryrypJious 
memory  for  little  insignificant  details,  and  can  repeat  to  you  with 
great  accuracy  the  very  words  of  a  conversation  or  the  precise  inci- 
dents of  a  story  which  they  have  once  heard." — J.  G.  Pitch.  "  We 
may  find  a  mere  local  memory  combined  with  very  little  j  udgrnent." 
— Dr.  Abercrombie.  "Extraordinary  powers  of  remembrance  are 
sometimes  coupled  with  a  childish  understanding." — Dr.  Beattie. 
"  We  in  the  West  have  little  idea  of  the  precision  with  which  an 
eastern  pupil  even  now  can  take  up  and  remember  the  minutest 
details  of  a  lesson,  reproducing  them  years  afterwards  in  the  exact 
words  of  his  master." — Dr.  W.  Robertson  Smith.  Dr.  Moffat,  the  dis- 
tinguished missionary,  after  preaching  a  long  sermon  to  a  number 
of  African  savages,  saw  at  a  distance  a  simple-looking  young  man 
holding  forth  to  a  number  of  people,  who  were  all  attention.  On 
approaching,  he  found  to  h'' surprise  that  he  was  preaching  his 
sermon  over  again,  with  uncommon  precision  and  witff  great  solem- 
nity, imitating  as  nearly  as  he  could  the  manner  and  gestures  of  the 
original. 


WHAT  IT  IS.  19 

the  word?  which  they  learn  so  readily  convey  no  ideas 
to  their  minds>  being  doubtless  on  that  account  more 
easily  learnt.1 

A  higher  form  of  memory  is  where  not  merely  an 
individual  past  state  of  the  mind — a  sensation,  thought, 
or  feeling — with  its  attending  circumstances,  is  recalled, 
but  ^here  a  number  of  joast^tatgs,  having  a  greater  or 
less  resemblance  to  each  pther,  are  reproduced  at  the 
same  time.  When  the  mind  comes  to  possess  a  num- 
ber of  ideas  of  the  same  or  a  similar  kind,  and  the 
reasoning  power  is  in  some  degree  developed,  a  prin- 
ciple of  association  and  comparison  comes  into  play, 
so  that  the  mind  brings  together  and  compares  those 
that  most  nearly  resemble  each  other,  and  thus  ar- 
ranges and  classifies  them.  Hence,  on  the  presentation 
of  a  new  object,  it  immediately  seeks  for  something 
similar  among  its  past  ideas  or  sensations,  brings  the 
two  together  so  as  to  compare  them,  and  notes  their 

1  Speaking  of  Dr.  Leyden,  who  was  remarkable  for  his  great 
memory,  Dr.  Abercrombie  says  :  "  I  am  informed  through  a  gentle- 
man, who  was  intimately  acquainted  with  him,  that  he  could  repeat 
correctly  a  long  act  of  parliament,  or  any  similar  document,  after 
having  once  jead  it.  When  he  was  on  one  occasion  congratulated  by 
a  friend  on  his  remarkable  power  in  this  respect,  he  replied  that, 
instead  of  an  advantage,  it  was  often  a  source  of  great  inconvenience. 
This  he  explained  by  saying  that  when  he  wished  to  recollect  a  par- 
ticular point  in  anything  which  he  had  read,  he  could  do  it  only  by 
repeating  to  himself  the  whole  from  the  commencement  till  he 
reached  the  point  which  he  wished  to  recall."  It  is  recorded  of 
the  Welsh  boy,  Richard  Roberts  Jones,  who  was  remarkable  for  his 
linguistic  powers,  that  his  other  faculties  were  of  an  extremely  low 
order,  and  that  even  the  books  which  he  read  in  the  foreign  tongues 
seemed  to  convey  no  ideas  to  his  mind.  "  In  extreme  cases  of  this 
endowment,  the  memory  of  an  exposition  or  discourse  is  consistent 
with  a  total  ignorance  of  the  meaning." — Prof.  Bain.  "I  have 
known  more  than  one  instance  of  an  individual  who,  after  having 
forgotten  completely  the  classical  studies  of  his  childhood,  was  yet 
able  to  repeat  with  fluency  long  passages  from  Homer  and  Virgil 
without  annexing  an  idea  to  the  words  that  he  uttered." — D.  Stewart* 


20  MEMOEY. 

agreements  and  differences.  Thus  a  civrftMstance  of 
yesterday,  in  place  of  recalling  other  circumstance  of 
yesterday  that  immediately  preceded  or  f*J4$*y*^  /t, 
would  recall  various  circumstances  of  a  similar  nature 
that  happened  probably  at  very  different  timefc  „  It  is 
of  the  utmost  importance  to  us,  in  forming  our  judg- 
ment of  things  or  in  determining  upon  a  particular 
line  of  conduct,  to  be  able  to  bring  together  before  the 
mind  a  number  of  instances  of  the  same  or  a  like  kind, 
recent  or  long  past,  which  may  aid  us  in  coming  to  a 
right  determination.  In  the  former  kind  of  ftj? 
the  associative  principle  at  work  is  contiguity  ^ 
it  is  similarity. 

When  this  higher  form  of  memory,  which  \ve  may 
call  the  "rational,"  comes  to  more  and  more  charac- 
terise the  mind,  the  lower  form  becomes  less  strong 
or  marked,  and  hence  men  of  talent  and  culture  are 
frequently  said  to  have  bad  memories,  the  fact  being 
that  they  have  simply  passed  from  a  lower  form  of  it 
to  a  higher.  The  commonplace  incidents  of  the  day 
take  little  hold  on  them,  because  their  minds  are 
actuated  by  a  higher  principle, — association  by  simi- 
larity taking  the  place  of  that  by  mere  contiguity. 
"  The  trivial  occurrences  of  the  day,"  says  Dugald 
Stewart,  "  in  general  escape  the  recollection  of  a  man 
of  ability,  not  because  he  is  unable  to  retain  them,  but 
because  he  does  not  attend  to  them."  The  Btrength  of 
this  kind  of  memory,  when  we  think  of  how  muclr'li 
contains,  to  say  jjfcthing  of  the  greater  value  and  utility^ 
of  its  contents,  vastly  surpasses  the  other.1 

1  "  The  great  difference  is  that  the  wealth  of  the  one  is  composed 
merely  of  those  smaller  pieces  which  are  in  continual  request,  and, 
therefore,  brought  more  frequently  to  view,  while  the  abundance  of 
the  other  consists  chiefly  in  those  more  precious  coins  which  are 
rather  deposited  than  carried  about  for  current  use,  but  which,  when 


WHAT   IT  IS.  'Jl 

The  highest  form  of  memory  is  that  in  which  past 
ideas  or  sensations  are,  as  it  were,  imaged  forth  as  if 
they  wesa  objects  of  actual  perception.1     This  is  what 
Sir  W.  Hamilton  calls  "  the  represehtative  faculty,"  or 
"the  ^.ower  which  the  mind  has  of  holding  up  vividly 
before  itself  the  thoughts  which,  by  the  act  of  repro- 
duction, it  has  called  into  consciousness".2     The  ternr- 
imagination  is  commonly  employed  to  designate  this  : 
power,f;  and  it  is  usually  regarded  as  a  distinct  faculty  of'*' 
the  mind,  but  we  rather  agree  with  those  philosophers 
who  consider  it  merely  as  a  form  or  part  of  memory, 
there  Vjeing  no  essential  difference  between  them.4 

brought  forward,  exhibit  a  magnificence  of  wealth  to  which  the  petty 
counters  of  the  multitude  are  comparatively  insignificant." — Dr.  t 
Brown.  "  The  man  of  genius  commonly  has  his  information  much 
less  at  command  than  those  who  are  possessed  of  an  inferior  degree 
of  originality  ;  and  what  is  somewhat  remarkable,  he  has  it  least  of 
all  at  command  on  those  subjects  on  which  he  has  found  his  inven- 
tion most  fertile." — D.  Stewart. 

1  "  It  is  not  always  the  person  who  recollects  most  easily  and 
correctly  who  can  exhibit*- what  he  remembers  in  the  most  vivid 
colours." — Sir  W.  Hamilton.  , 

2  "The  act  of  representation  is  merely  the  energy  of  the  mind  in 
holding  up  to  its  own  contemplation  what  it  is  determined  to  repre- 
sent."— Sir  W.  Hamilton. 

3  "  Imagination  would  be  the  term  which,  with  the  least  violence 
to  its  meaning,  could  be  accommodated  to  express  the  representative 
faculty."— Sir  W.  Hamilton. 

4  "  Memory  Aristotle  does  not  view  as  a  faculty  distinct  from 
imagination,  but  simply  as  the  recalling  those  impressions,  those 
movements  into  consciousness,   of  which  phantasy  is  the  comple- 
ment."— Sir  W.  Hamilton.     "  Memory  pertains  to  that  part  of  the 
soul  to  which  also  imagination  pertains,  and  those  things  are  essen- 
tially objects  of  memory  which  are  objects  of  imagination." — Aristotle. 
"Imagination  is  just  a  form  of  memory.  ...  In  all  our  imaginings 
we  are  simply  remembering — remembering  not  methodically  but 
loosely — not  according  to  old  collocations  and  contiguities  alone, 
but  also  according  to  the  laws  of  resemblance  and  contrast.     But 
still  it  is  memory :   memory  furnishes  the  whole  weft  and   woof 
for  every  web,  however  brilliant  the  colouring  which  imagination 
weaves." — Dr.  J.  Cunningham. 


22  MEMOBY, 

Philosophers  usually  distinguish  two  kinds  of  imagi* 
nation — the  reminiscent  or  reproductive,  and  the  con- 
structive, creative,  or  productive.1  By  the  former  the 
objects  are  simply  represented  as  they  previously 
appeared,  without  any  alteration  or  change.  The 
latter,  which  is  usually  designated  by  imagination  or 
fancy,  is  that  in  which  past  events  are  presented 
not  as  they  previously  happened,  but  in  combination 
with  other  events  belonging,  it  may  be,  to  different 
periods.2  In  the  former  we  reproduce  past  sensations 
or  ideas  as  they  previously  existed;  in  the  latter  we 
may  take  only  certain  of  them  and  arrange  them  in 
a  particular  way,  or  we  may  take  parts  of  one  and 
parts  of  another  and  bring  them  together  so  as  to 
form  an  image  more  beautiful  perhaps  than  anything 
to  be  found  in  nature,  yet  the  different  parts  of  which 
it  is  composed  have  all  been  taken  from  nature,  and 
been  matter  of  actual  experience.3  In  memory  too, 

1  u  Philosophers  have  divided  imagination  into  two — what  they 
call  the  reproductive  and  the  productive.     By  the  former  they  mean 
imagination  considered  as  simply  re-exhibiting,   representing  the 
objects  presented  by  perception — that  is,  exhibiting  them  without 
addition  or  retrenchment,  or  any  change  in  the  relations  which  they 
reciprocally  held  when  first  made  known  to  us  through  sense." — Sir 
W*  Hamilton. 

2  "  The  reproductive  imagination  is  not  a  simple  faculty.     It  com- 
prises two  processes  :  first,  an  act  of  representation  strictly  so  called  ; 
and  secondly,  an  act  of  reproduction  arbitrarily  limited  by  certain  con- 
tingent circumstances.  .  .  .  The  productive  or  creative  imagination 
is  that  which  is  usually  signified  by  the  term  imagination  or  fancy 
in  ordinary  language." — Sir  W.  Hamilton. 

8  "What  is  imagination  but  memory  presenting  the  objects  of 
prior  conceptions  in  groups  or  combinations  which  do  not  exist  in 
nature." — Dr.  Payne.  "  Fancy  may  combine  things  that  never  were 
combined  in  reality.  It  may  enlarge  or  diminish,  multiply  or  divide, 
compound  and  fashion  the'  objects  which  nature  presents ;  but  it 
cannot  by  the  utmost  efforts  of  that  creative  power,  which  we  ascribe 
to  it,  bring  any  one  single  ingredient  into  its  production  which 
nature  has  not  framed  and  brought  to  our  knowledge  by  some  other 


WHAT  IT  IS.         •  23 

as  in  imagination,  analysis  and  association  are  opera- 
tions that  are  constantly  going  on,  for  it  is  necessary 
to  analyse  or  reduce  into  -  parts,  in.  order  to  fix  clearly 
in  the  mind  what  we  wish  to  remember,  and  we 
associate  or  bring  together  in  the  mind  those  ideas 
or  sensations  that  we  wish  to  recall  each  other.1 

Wherever  we  have  this  power  of  imagination,  this 
representative  faculty  most  highly  developed,  there 
we  have  the  memory  in  its  most  perfect  form.  We 
have  it,  for  instance,  in  him  who  can  recall  a  past 
event  so  vividly  that  it  seems  as  if  it  were  again  pre- 
sent to  him;  in  him  who,  after  reading  a  passage  in 
a  book,  can  recall  the  form  and  appearance  of  every 
word  as  if  it  were  still  before  him;  or  in  him  who, 
after  hearing  a  speech,  can  bring  back  again  the  very 
sounds  of  the  words  as  it  were  in  his  ears.2  It  is 

faculty." — .#r.  T.  Reid.  "  The  most  brilliant  imagination  never  yet 
produced  anything  which  had  not  been  seen,  heard,  or  felt,  as  it 
were,  piecemeal ;  the  combination  is  new,  but  the  material  thus 
woven  afresh  is  what  all  are  acquainted  with." — J.  Barlow.  "  It  is 
admitted  on  all  hands  that  imagination  creates  nothing,  that  it  pro- 
duces nothing  new." — Sir  W.  Hamilton.  "All  the  creative  power 
of  the  mind  amounts  to  no  more  than  the  faculty  of  compounding, 
transposing,  augmenting,  or  diminishing  the  materials  afforded  us  by 
the  senses  and  experience." — D.  Hume. 

1  "  The  congeries  of  phenomena  called  up  by  the  reproductive 
faculty  .    .    .    are  separated  into  parts,  are  analysed  into  elements  ; 
and  these  parts  and  elements  are  again  compounded  in  every  various 
fashion.     In  all  thi«  the  representative  faculty  co-operates.'' — Sir  W 
Hamilton. 

2  "  Some  few  persons  see  mentally  in  print  every  word  that  is 
uttered    .    .    .    and  they  read  them  off  usually  as  from  a  long  imagi- 
nary strip  of  paper,  such  as  is  unwound  from  telegraphic  instruments." 
— Francis  Gallon.    A  child,  grand -daughter  of  Mr.  Bidder,  the  dis- 
tinguished menUd  calculator,  remarked  :  "  Isn't  it  strange  ?     When 
I  hear  anything  remarkable  read  or  said  to  me,  I  think  I  see  it  in 
print."     A  brother  of  the  calculator,  a  Unitarian  minister,  had  an 
extraordinary  memory  for  Biblical  texts,  and  could  give  chapter  and 
verse  of  almost  any  passage  in  the  Bible,  or,  on  getting  chapter  and 
verse,  could  repeat  the  passage.     A  writer  in  The  Spectator,  who 


24  MEMORY. 

this  power  that  enables  the  artist  to  carry  in  his  mind 
the  various  minutiae  of  a  scene,  so  that  he  can  after- 
wards paint  it  from  memory;1  the  poet  to  be  so  filled 
with  the  beauty  and  fragrance  of  nature  that  he  can 
afterwards  describe  it  as  if  it  were  actually  present ; 2 
the  inventor  to  hold  in  his  mind  the  various  parts  of 
his  design,  so  that  he  can  mark  and  calculate  their 
several  effects ; 3  the  chess-player  to  note  the  series  of 
results  that  will  follow  a  particular  move,  or,  most 
wonderful  of  all,  to  play  a  number  of  different  games 
(sometimes  as  many  as  sixteen  or  twenty)  at  the  same 

mentions  this,  says  that  it  probably  "  arose  from  a  power  of  seeing  in 
some  visionary  Bible  the  exact  place  and  appearance  of  the  text  in 
question.  Probably  what  he  recalled  was  the  aspect  of  the  printed 
text,  from  which  he  mentally  read  off  the  words  and  the  reference." 

1  "  Certain  painters,  draughtsmen,  and  sculptors,  after  attentively 
considering  a  figure,  are  able  to  draw  it  from  memory.     Gustave 
Dore  has  this  faculty  ;  Horace  Vernet  had  it     In  a  school  of  arts  at 
Paris  the  pupils  were  practised  in  copying  models  from  memory. 
After  four  months'  practice  they  said  that  the  image  had  become 
much  more  distinct,  and  if  it  disappears  they  can  recall  it  almost  at 
will." — H.  Taine.     "Dore^s  memory  of  anything  he  had  once  seen 
was,"  we  are  told,  "  marvellous  ;  and  he  seemed  to  work  at  night  as 
if  the  scenes  he  had  made  -note  of  during  the  day  were  still  before 
his  eyes."    After  once  driving  through  Windsor  Park  "he  knew 
every  tree  by  heart  that  he  had  glanced  at,  and  said  that  he  could 
draw  all  from  memory  ". — B.  Roosevelt. 

2  "  The  great  writers  whose  vivid  descriptions  of  scenery  or  events 
hold  our  attention  and  stir  our  feelings  have  this  power  in  a  high 
degree  ;  they  create  for  themselves  a  world  of  sense  by  the  influence 
of  ideas,  and  then  strive  to  present  vividly  to  us  what  they  have 
thus  represented  to  their  own  minds.  .   .   .   Goethe  could  call  up  an 
image  at  will  and  make  it  undergo  various  transformations  as  it  were 
before  his  eyes." — Dr.  H.  Maudsley. 

3  "  A  strong  imagination,  that  is,  the  power  of  holding  up  any  ideal 
object  to  the  mind  in  clear  and  steady  colours,  is  a  faculty  necessary 
to  the  poet  and  to  the  artist,  but  not  to  them  alone.     It  is  almost 
equally  requisite  for  the  successful  cultivation  of  almost  every  scien- 
tific pursuit.  .  .  .  The  vigour  and  perfection  of  this  faculty  are  seen 
not  so  much  in  the  representation  of  individual  objects  and  frag- 
mentary sciences  as  in  the  representation  of  systems," — Sir   W< 
Hamilton. 


WHAT  IT  IS.  25 

time,  without  seeing  any  of  the  boards.1  Those  who 
have  been  distinguished  for  their  power  to  carry  out 
long  and  intricate  processes  of  mental  calculation  owe 
it  to  the  same  cause.2 

1  "  Paul  Morphy,  the  American,  was  the  first  who  made  an  especial 
etudy  of  this  kind  of  display,  playing  some  seven  or  eight  games 
blindfold  and   simultaneously  against  various  inferior  opponents. 
.   .   .    Since  his  day  many  chess-players,  who  are  gifted  with  strong 
and  clear  memory  and  power  of  picturing  to  the  mind  the  ideal 
board  and  men,  have  carried  this  branch  of  exhibition  play  far 
beyond  Morphy's  pitch.  .  .  .  Blackburne  and  Zukertort  can  play 
as  many  as  sixteen  or  even  twenty  blindfold  games  at  a  time,  and 
win  about  80  per  cent,  of  them  at  least." — Pall  Mall  Gazette.    "With 
chess-players  who  play  a  game  with  their  eyes  closed  or  their  faces 
turned  towards  the  wall    ,   .   .   evidently  the  figure  of  the  whole 
chess-board,  with  the  different  pieces  in  order,  presents  itself  to  them 
at  each  move,  as  in  an  internal  mirror,  for  without  this  they  would 
be  unable  to  foresee  the  probable  consequences  of  their  adversaries' 
and  their  own  moves." — H.  Taine.    "  One  of  the  great  chess-players, 
who  can  play  not  merely  two  but  twelve  games  at  once  without 
seeing  the  boards,  expressly  stated  that  he  had  before  him  a  perfectly 
vivid  picture  of  each  board,  which  altered  instantaneously  as  each 
move  was  made,  and  thus  remained  printed  on  his  mind  till  another 
move  again  changed  the  situation." — The  Spectator. 

2  "  Children  accustomed  to  calculate  in  their  heads  write  mentally 
with  chalk  on  an  imaginary  board  the  figures  in  question,  then  all 
their  partial  operations,  then  the  final  sum,  so  that  they  see  inter- 
nally the  different  lines  of  white  figures  with  which  they  are  con- 
cerned.   .  .   .   Young  Colburn,  who  had  never  been  at  school,  and 
did  not  know  how  to  read  or  write,  said  that,  when  making  his 
calculations,  'he  saw  them  clearly  before  him'.     Another  said  that 
he  'saw  the  numbers  he  was  working  with  as  if  they  had  been 
written  on  a  slate'." — H.  Taine.     "  If  I  perform  a  sum  mentally," 
said  Mr.  Bidder,  "  it  always  proceeds  in  a  visible  form  in  my  mind  ; 
indeed,  I  can  conceive  no  other  way  possible  of  doing  mental  arith- 
metic."    "  He  had  the  faculty,"  says  a  writer  in  The  Spectator,  "  of 
carrying  about  with  him  a  vivid  mental  picture  of  the  numbers, 
figures,  and  diagrams  with  which  he  was  occupied,  so  that  he  saw, 
as  it  were,  on  a  slate  the  elements  of  the  problem  he  was  working." 
He  had  "  the  capacity  for  seeing,  as  if  photographed  on  his  retina, 
the  exact  figures,  whether  arithmetical  or  geometrical,  with  which 
he  was  occupied  at  the  time".     It  is  related  of  Dr.  Porson,  who  was 
remarkable  for  his  great  memory,  that  on  one  occasion  he  called  on 
a  friend,  whom  he  found  reading  Thucydides.     His  friend  asked 
him  the  meaning  of  some  word,  when  Porson  immediately  repeated 


26  ME  MOB  Y. 

Nor  is  it  to  be  supposed  that  this  power  of  imagina- 
tion or  vivid  representation  is  confined  to  objects  of 
sense.  "  On  the  contrary/'  says  Sir  W.  Hamilton,  "  a 
vigorous  power  of  representation  is  as  indispensable  a 
condition  of  success  in  the  abstract  sciences  as  in  the 
poetical  and  plastic  arts."  x  Intellectual  ideas  and  pro- 
cesses of  reasoning  are  represented  to  the  mind  in  the 
same  way.  The  orator,  for  instance,  so  vividly  repre- 
sents to  his  mind  the  different  parts  of  his  discourse 
that  he  has  no  difficulty  in  running  over  them  in  any 
direction  and  arranging  them  in  the  best  way  to  bring 
out  the  end  he  has  in  view.  To  him  they  are  almost 
as  much  material  objects  as  if  he  had  seen  and  handled 
them  in  material  form.2 

Thus  while  vulgar  minds  are  held  in  thraldom  to  the 
order  and  circumstances  in  which  their  perceptions 
were  originally  obtained,  and  can  only  reproduce  them 

the  context.  "  But  how  do  you  know  that  it  was  this  passage  I  was 
reading  ? "  asked  his  friend.  "  Because,"  replied  Person,  "  the  word 
occurs  only  twice  in  Thucydides  ;  once  on  the  right-hand  page  in 
the  edition  which  you  are  using,  and  once  on  the  left.  I  observed 
on  which  side  you  looked,  and  accordingly  I  knew  to  which  passage 
you  referred."  •  Lord  Macaulay  was  remarkable  for  his  great  memory, 
and  it  is  said  of  him  that  "  every  incident  he  heard  of,  every  page  he 
read,  assumed  in  his  mind  a  concrete  spectral  form". 

1  "  Imagination,  or  phantasy,  in  its  most  extensive  meaning,  is  the 
faculty  representative  of  the  phenomena  both  of  the  external  and 
internal  worlds." — Sir  W.  Hamilton. 

2  It  is  said  of  Eobert  Hall  "  that  he  never  proceeded  even  to  think 
of  a  specific  text  as  fitted  for  a  sermon  until  the  matter  it  presented 
Btood  out  in  the  form  of  a  particular  distinct  and  specific  topic ;  LB 
could  then  take  it  up  and  lay  it  down  as  he  pleased  ".     We  are  told 
of  Mrs.  Henry  Wood,  the  novelist,  that  "she  first  composed   her 

Elot.  .  .  .  Once  thought  out  .  .  .  the  drama  had  then  become  to 
er  as  real  as  if  it  had  actually  existed  .  .  .  and  stood  visibly 
before  her  as  if  she  were  actually  looking  upon  a  diorama.  .  .  . 
It  also  enabled  her  to  take  the  greatest  interest  in  her  story  and  in 
her  characters.  She  believed  in  them,  realised  them,  looked  upon 
them  as  living  people.  To  her  they  had  as  much  an  existence  as  her 
own  friends." 


WHAT  IT   IS.  27 

in  the  same  manner,  the  cultivated  mind,  having  this 
faculty  strong,  sees  the  end  from  the  beginning,  and 
arranges  his  materials  in  the  way  best  calculated  to 
bring  out  the  end  he  has  in  view,  passing  over,  it  may 
be,  a  number  of  details  that  are  not  essential  to  his 
purpose.1 

The  writer  in  The  Spectator  already  quoted  very  well 
points  out  the  superiority  of  this  kind  of  memory  over 
that  by  association,  whether  of  contiguity  or  similarity, 
confining,  however,  to  words  and  numbers  what  is  of 
much  wider  application.  "  It  is  certain,"  he  says, 
"  that  those  who  have  it  (i.e.,  the  power  of  imaging) 
have  an  enormous  advantage  over  those  who  remember 
by  association  only — who  do  not  see  any  picture 
.  ,  .  of  the  number  or  words  with  which  they  are 
dealing,  but  have  to  call  them  up  by  the  force  of  asso- 
ciation of  each  with  the  next  in  succession.  The 
difference,  indeed,  between  learning  '  by  heart/  or,  as  it 
is  called,  '  by  rote/  and  summoning  up  before  the 
imagination  a  page  on  which  all  the  words  or  numbers 
required  stand  forth  in  black  and  white,  as  the  trees  of 
your  garden,  or  the  houses  within  sight  of  your  home 
stand  out  in  your  memory  the  moment  you  choose  to 
summon  them  up,  is  enormous.  And  probably  the 
difference  is  great  in  regard  to  the  confidence  reposed 

*  a  A  vulgar  mind  forgets  nothing  and  spares  nothing ;  he  is 
ignorant  that  conversation  is  always  but  a  selection  ;  that  every  story 
is  subject  to  the  laws  of  dramatic  poetry,  festinat  ad  eventum ;  and 
that  all  which  does  not  concur  to  the  effect  destroys  or  weakens  it. 
.  .  .  Minds  of  this  description  are  held  in  thraldom  to  the  order 
and  circumstances  in  which  their  perceptions  were  originally  ob- 
tained."— Sir  W.  Hamilton.  "  It  has  been  often  remarked  ^  that  the 
perfection  of  description  does  not  consist  in  a  minute  specification  of 
circumstances,  but  in  a  j  udicious  selection  of  them.  ...  In  the 
man  who  composes  the  coherent  discourse,  the  main  idea,  that  of  the 
end  in  view,  predominates  and  controls  the  association  in  every  part 
of  the  process." — D.  Steivart. 


28  MEMORY. 

in  each  kind  of  memory.  .  .  .  Everyone  knows  how 
much  more  unhesitatingly  we  read  off  from  a  vivid 
mental  picture  than  merely  repeat  from  association. 
In  the  former  case,  whether  truly  or  falsely,  we  seem  to 
ourselves  to  be  speaking  from  actual  sight ;  in  the  latter 
only  from  habit.  .  .  .  The  mere  vividness  of  it  gives 
us  a  confidence  which  we  seldom  have  when  relying  on 
the  law  of  association  alone." 

It  is  not  meant  that  each  individual  memory  will 
exist  only  in  one  or  other  of  these  forms,  or  belong  io 
one  or  other  of  these  classes;  for  sometimes  persons  are 
found  who  possess  them  all  in  great  efficiency,  and  that 
is  the  most  perfect  memory  in  which  they  all  exist  in 
due  proportion.  Usually,  however,  one  form  is  found 
to  greatly  predominate  over  the  others,  so  as  to  give  a 
distinct  Character  to  the  memory. 

In  order  to  remember  a  thing,  we  must  first  of  all 
have  had  it  previously  in  the  mind.1  "We  cannot  be 
said  to  remember  what  has  not  already  been  matter  of 
thorighJLor  observation  to  us.  We  perceive  the  present, 
we  anticip^atg^the^future,  but  we  remember-the  past.2 
A  sensation  or  an  idea  then,  in  order  to  be  the 
subject  of  memory,  must  at  some  previous  time  have 
been  present  to  the  mind,  and  there  is  always  along 
with  the  thing  remembered  the  consciousness  of  its 
having  been  in  the  mind  before.8 

1  "  When  the  image  of  anything  is  impressed  on  the  memory,  the 
thing  itself  must  needs  be  first  present,  whence  the  image  may  first 
be  impressed." — St.  Augustine.  "  There  can  be  no  memory  of  what 
we  have  not  had  experience  of  in  whole  or  in  part." — Dr.  Maudsley. 

9  "  The  object  of  memory  or  thing  remembered  must  be  something 
that  is  past,  as  the  object  of  perception  or  consciousness  must  be 
something  that  is  present."— Dr.  T.  Reid. 

8  "  Reproduction  is  not  all  that  constitutes  memory ;  for  there 
must  be  in  addition  a  recognition  of  the  reproduced  state  of  conscious- 
ness as  one  which  has  been  formerly  experienced." — Dr.  Carpenter. 


WHAT  IT  IS.  29 

A  sensation  or  an  idea  present  to  the  mind  for  the 
first  time,  and  its  subsequent  recall  in  the  memory, 
have  many  features  in  common  ;x  and  indeed  the  more 
closely  and  accurately  the  recalled  sensation  corre- 
sponds to  the  original  the  better  is  it  said  to  be  remem- 
bered. Usually  the  recalled  impression  is  less  distinct 
or  marked  than  the  original,  but  otherwise  there 
is  little  to  distinguish  them,2  so  that  in  abnormal 
states  of  the  mind  the  one  is  frequently  mistaken  for 
the  other;  and  the  phantasms  of  our  dreams  or  the 
hallucinations  of  a  fever  have  all  the  appearance  of 
reality.3  Indeed,  it  may  well  be  doubted  if  we  should 
be  able  to  distinguish  an  idea  from  a  sensation — a  sub- 
jective from  an  objectrvWeeling — did  not  reason  or  some 
of  the  other  senses  come  to  our  aid.4 


1 "  It  is  plain  that  memory  is  closely  allied  to  sensation,  and  that 
the  resemblance  between  the  two  orders  of  phenomena  is  so  great  as 
to  justify  the  suspicion  that  the  nervous  system  is  instrumental  in 
producing  the  one  as  well  as  the  other." — Sir  B.  Brodie.  "  Between 
conceiving  a  sensation  and  really  perceiving  it  there  is  only  a  differ- 
ence of  degree.  .  .  .  The  mere  idea  of  a  nauseous  taste  can  excite 
the  sensation,  even  to  the  production  of  vomiting." — Prof.  Bain. 

2  "  Between  the  sensible  perception  of  an  object  and  the  repro- 
duced image  of  the  object  there  is  chiefly  a  quantitative  difference 
in  the  physiological  and  psychological  processes  :  the  image  is  a  faint 
sensation.''' — G.  H.  Lewes. 

8  "Everyone  is  familiar  with  the  fact  that  sensations  formerly 
experienced  are  reproduced  in  dreaming  with  a  vividness  and  reality 
quite  equal  to  that  with  which  his  consciousness  was  originally  im- 
pressed by  the  actual  objects  ;  and  this  not  unfrequently  happens  also 
in  the  waking  state." — Dr.  Carpenter.  "  Dreams  have  frequently  a 
degree  of  vivacity  which  enables  them  to  compete  with  the  reality; 
and  if  the  events  which  they  represent  to  us  were  in  accordance  with 
the  circumstances  of  time  and  place  in  which  we  stand,  it  would  be 
almost  impossible  to  distinguish  a  vivid  dream  from  a  sensible  percep- 
tion— Ancillon.  "  It  is  only  because  dreams  are  different  and  incon- 
sistent that  we  can  say  when  we  awake  that  we  have  dreamt.3' 
— Pascal. 

4  "  There  seems  to  be  no  difference  in  the  feelings  of  the  individual 
between  the  sensations  thus  originating  (i.e.,  subjectively)  and  those 


30  MEMORY. 

This  similarity  in  the  two  states  naturally  leads  us  to 
look  for  a  like  similarity  in  their  causes  or  circum- 
stances. In  other  words,  we  are  led  to  believe  that 
when  a  sensation  that  has  once  been  in  the  mind  is 
recalled,  the  same  parts  are  affected  and  the  same 
physical  conditions  reproduced  as  when  it  was  originally 
present.1  Professor  Bain  says  :  "  It  must  be  considered 

which  are  produced  in  the  usual  manner ;  for  we  find  that  unless 
convinced  to  the  contrary  by  their  reason,  persons  who  witness 
spectral  illusions  believe  as  firmly  in  the  reality  of  the  objects  that 
come  before  their  minds  as  if  the  images  of  those  objects  were  actually 
formed  on  their  retinae." — Dr.  Carpenter.  "  If  the  idea  of  the  sweet- 
ness of  sugar  should  be  excited  in  our  dreams,  the  whiteness  and 
hardness  of  it  occur  at  the  same  time  by  association,  and  we  believe 
a  material  lump  of  sugar  present  before  us.  But  if  in  our  waking 
hours  the  idea  of  the  sweetness  of  sugar  occurs  to  us,  the  stimuli  of 
surrounding  objects  .  .  .  prevent  the  other  ideas  of  the  hardness 
and  whiteness  of  the  sugar  from  being  exerted  by  association." — Dr. 
E.  Darwin.  tl  Imaginary  acts  are  always  accompanied  by  the  belief 
(at  least  for  the  moment)  in  the  existence  of  the  corresponding  reality. 
This  illusion,  which  exists  in  the  highest  degree  in  hallucination, 
vertigo,  and  dreams  (for  want  of  real  perceptions  to  correct  it),  also 
exists,  although  in  a  less  degree,  in  all  states  of  consciousness.  So 
long  as  an  image,  whatever  its  content  (whether  it  represents  a  house 
or  a  mechanical  invention  or  a  sentiment),  remains  isolated,  as  if 
suspended  in  consciousness,  with  no  relation  to  other  states,  having  a 
fixed  position  incapable  of-  classification,  so  long  we  regard  it  as  a 
present  existence." — Th.  Ribot.  "  I  am  inclined  to  think,  after  the 
most  careful  attention  to  what  I  experience  in  myself,  that  the 
exercise  both  of  conception  and  imagination  is  always  accom- 
panied with  a  belief  that  their  objects  exist.  .  .  .  Whenever  the 
objects  of  imagination  engross  the  attention  wholly  .  .  .  they 
produce  a  temporary  belief  of  their  reality.  ...  It  is  a  strong 
confirmation  of  this  doctrine  that  in  sleep,  when  the  influence 
of  the  will  over  the  train  of  our  thoughts  is  suspended  .  .  . 
we  ascribe  to  the  objects  of  imagination  an  independent  and  per- 
manent existence,  as  we  do  when  awake  to  the  objects  of  percep- 
tion."— D.  Stewart. 

1  "  It  is  very  probable  that  recollections  occupy  the  same  anatomi- 
cal seat  as  primitive  impressions,  and  that  they  excite  the  activity  of 
the  same  nervous  elements." — Th.  Ribot.  "  When  I  recollect  the 
appearance  of  an  oak,  my  internal  organs  must  necessarily  at  the 
time  be  in  the  same  situation  in  which  they  were  when  I  saw  that 
oak." — Helvetius.  "  Our  recollection  or  imagination  of  external 


WHAT  IT   IS.  81 

as  almost  beyond  a  doubt  that  the  renewed  feeling  occu- 
pies the  very  same  parts  and  in  the  very  same  manner  as 
the  original  feeling  and  no  other  parts,  nor  in  any  other 
manner  that  can  be  assigned".  "  To  recall  a  motion 
just  made  with  the  arm  is,"  says  Herbert  Spencer,  "  to 
have  a  feeble  repetition  of  those  internal  states  which 
accompanied  the  motion — is  to  have  an  incipient  excite- 
ment of  those  nerves  which  were  strongly  excited 
during  the  motion".1 

As  we  shall  afterwards  see,  a  sensation  is  caused  by 
an  object  impinging  upon  an  organ  of  sense  and  setting 
up  there  a  form  of  motion,  which  is  conveyed,  by  means 
of  connecting  nerve-fibres,  to  the  brain,  where  it 
becomes  an  object  of  consciousness.2  In  like  manner, 
when'  voluntary  motion  is  purposed,  motion  originates 
in  the  brain  and  passes  along  the  nerves  to  the 
muscles,  which  are  thus  brought  into  action. 

It  seems  highly  probable,  then,  that  the  recalled 
sensation  or  idea  is  occasioned  by  a  repetition  of  the 
same  form  of  motion  as  attended  the  original  sen- 
sation.8 The  sensation  of  red  is  produced  by  a 

objects  consists  of  a  partial  repetition  of  the  perceptions  which  were 
excited  by  these  external  objects  at  the  time  we  became  acquainted 
with  them.7' — Dr.  K  Darwin. 

1  "  A  movement,  whether  real  or  ideal,  is  mentally  known  as  a 
definite  expenditure  of  energy  in  some  special  muscle  or  muscles." — 
Prof.  Bain.     "  Ideas  are  nothing  else  than  weak  repetitions  of  the 
psychical  states,  caused  by  actual  impressions  and  motions." — H. 
Spencer. 

2  "  External  objects  impressed  upon  the  senses  occasion  first  in  the 
nerves  on  which  they  are  impressed,  and  then  in  the  brain,  vibrations 
of  the  small  and,  as  one  may  say,  infinitesimal  medullary  particles." 
—Dr.  Hartley.     "  The  only  way  in  which  the  external  world  affects 
the  nervous  system  is  by  means  of  motion.     Light  is?  motion,  sound 
motion,  heat  motion,  touch  motion,  taste  and  smell, 'all  motion." — 
J.  D.  Morell.    "  We  have  the  strongest  reason  for  believing  that  what 
the  nerves  convey  to  the  brain  is  in  all  cases  motion." — Prof.  Tyndall. 

8  "  Our  ideas  of  imagination  are  repetitions  of  the  motions  of  the 


32  MEMOEY. 

certain  kind  of  motion,  and  the  idea  of  red  is  in  all 
probability  induced  by  the  same  kind  of  motion.1  This 
doctrine  is  as  old  as  the  days  of  Aristotle,  who  viewed 
the  representations  of  memory  or  imagination  "  as 
merely  the  movements  continued  in  the  organ  of 
internal  sense  after  the  moving  object  itself  has  been 
withdrawn". — Sir  W.  Hamilton.2' 

It  is  the  general  opinion  of  physiologists  that  the 
movements  on  which  our  recalled  sensations  depend 
are  confined  to  the  brain,  which  is  therefore  regarded  as 
the  sole  seat  of  the  memory.3  This  is  probably  the  case 

nerves,  which  were  originally  occasioned  by  the  stimulus  of  external 
bodies." — Dr.  E.  Darwin.  "  It  cannot  but  be  that  those  vibrations 
which  accompany  sensations  should  beget  something  which  may 
accompany  ideas  in  like  manner  ;  and  this  can  be  nothing  but  feebler 
vibrations  agreeing  with  the  sensory-generating  vibrations  in  kind, 
place,  and  line  of  direction." — Dr.  Hartley. 

1  "  The  simple  ideas  that  we  call  up  by  recollection  ...   as 
the  colour  red,  or  the  smell  of  a  rose,  are  exact  resemblances  of  the 
same  simple  ideas  from  perception,  and  in  consequence  must  be  a 
repetition  of  those  very  motions." — Dr.  E.  Darwin. 

2  According  to  the  ancient  peripatetics,  "  we  may  conceive  to  be 
formed  within  us,  as  from  the  operation  of  our  senses  about  sensible 
objects,  some  impression,  as  it  were,  or  picture  in  our  original  sen- 
sorium,  being  a  relic  of  that  motion  caused  within  us  by  the  external 
object ;  a  relic  which,  when  the  external  object  is  no  longer  present, 
remains  and  is  still  preserved,  being,  as  it  were,  its  image,  and  which, 
by  being  thus  preserved,  becomes  the  cause  of  our  having  memory." 
— Dr.  T.  Reid.     "  By  idea  in  the  sense  of  corporeal  species,  Descartes 
did  not  mean  a  picture,  likeness,  or  image  of  the  object  existing  in  the 
brain,  but  simply  a  certain  organic  movement  or  agitation  of  the 
nerves  determined  by  the  object,  and  communicated  to  the  brain,  the 
seal  of  the  sensus  communis" — Prof.  Veitch. 

3  "  In  the  recollection  of  sensuous  things  the  mind  refers  to  a  brain 
in  which  are  retained  the  effects,  or  rather  the  likenesses,  of  changes 
that  past  impressions  and  intellectual  states  had  made."  —Sir  J.  Paget. 
"  Memory  means  physiologically  the  same  part  of  the  brain  in  activity 
as  on  the  former  occasion  .   .    .    with  this  difference,  that  it  has 
been  in  action  before,  and  has  an  ingrained  record  thereof." — Dr. 
Maudsley.     "  It  is  not  to  be  doubted  that  those  motions  which  give 
rise  to  sensation  leave  on  the  brain  changes  of  its  substance  which 
answer  to  what  Haller  called  vestigia  rerum,  and  to  what  that  great; 


WHAT  IT  IS.  83 

in  many  instances,  as  where  the  previous  sensation  is 
only  imperfectly  recalled  ;  but  where  it  is  brought  back 
with  any  degree  of  vividness,  as  in  the  highest  form  of 
memory,  we  are  of  opinion  that  the  motion  is  not  con- 
fined to  the  brain,  but  extends  also  to  the  connecting 
nerves,  and  even  to  the  special  organ  of  sense,  as  in  the 
original  sensation,1  with  this  difference,  that  in  sensa- 
tion the  motion  originates  in  the  external  organ  and 
travels  inward  to  the  centre,  whereas  in  recollection  it 
originates  in  the  centre  and  passes  outward  to  the  outer 
organ.2  It  is  well  known  that  if  we  gaze  for  a  time  on 
a  particular  bright  colour  the  retina  becomes  exhausted 
for  the  reception  of  that  colour,  and  the  object  assumes 
the  appearance  of  the  complementary  one.  Now,  if,  in 
place  of  gazing,  we  shut  our  eyes  and  vividly  imagine 

thinker  David  Hartley  termed  '  vibratiuncules'.  The  sensation 
which  has  passed  away  leaves  behind  molecules  of  the  brain  compe- 
tent to  its  reproduction — *  sensigenous  molecules,'  so  to  speak,  which 
constitute  the  physical  foundation  of  memory." — Pro/.  Huxley. 

1  "As  sensation  has  its  seat  in  one  portion  of  the  organism  .  .  . 
which  is  not  the  brain  only,  but  also  the  afferent  nerves,  the  idea  or 
the  ideal  sensation  must  have  the  same  seat." — Prof.  Bain.  "  The 
organ  which  the  imagination  employs  in  the  representation  of  sensible 
objects  seems  to  be  no  other  than  the  organs  themselves  of  sense,  on 
which  the  original  impressions  were  made  and  through  which  they 
were  originally  perceived." — Sir  W.  Hamilton.  "  The  same  volition 
that  rules  the  bodily  eye  can  rule  the  mental,  because  the  mental  is 
still  the  bodily  one." — Prof.  Bain. 

2 "  I  am  disposed  to  conclude  that  as  in  perception  the  living 
organs  of  sense  are  from  without  determined  to  energy,  so  in  imagi- 
nation they  are  determined  to  a  similar  energy  by  an  influence  from 
within." — Sir  W.  Hamilton.  "  In  seeking  to  recall  the  image  of  a 
friend,  there  is  a  consciousness  of  the  struggle  taking  place,  first  in 
the  head,  and  slowly  and  finally  in  the  organ  of  sense.  It  is  an 
interesting  fact  that  with  persons  in  whom  images  easily  acquire  the 
energy  of  sensations,  the  feeling  of  effort  is  always  localised  in  the 
sense  organ  rather  than  in  the  head  ;  whereas  with  those  persons  in 
whom  images  have  less  energy  and  were  less  easily  recalled,  the  effort 
is  more  felt  in  the  head.  Very  familiar  images — i.e.,  those  constantly 
excited — are  felt  in  the  sense  organ  from  the  first." — G.  H.  Lewes. 


34  MEMORY. 

the  colour,  the  same  effect  is  produced — the  retina 
becomes  exhausted,  and  the  complementary  colour 
takes  the  place  of  the  original  one,  showing  clearly  that 
the  retina  is  concerned  in  the  latter  case  as  in  the 
former.1  And  what  holds  true  with  regard  to  sigtt  is 
doubtless  true  also  in  regard  to  the  other  senses,  and 
even  to  our  muscular  activities,  so  that  in  going  over  in 
thought  a  certain  course  of  action  we  exercise  the  same 
parts  (at  least  as  far  as  the  nerves  are  concerned),  and 
produce  a  measure  of  fatigue  of  the  same  kind  as  attends 
the  performance  of  the  actual  movements.2  It  is  worthy 
of  remark,  too,  that  the  time  taken  up  in  mentally 
going  over  a  course  of  action  is  usually  much  the  same 
as  that  taken  up  in  actually  performing  the  movements.3 

1  "  Thus  if  the  eye  be  fixed  for  any  length  oi  time  upon  a  bright 
red  spot  on  a  white  ground,  and  then  be  suddenly  turned  so  as  to 
rest  upon  the  white  surface,  we  see  a  spectrum  of  a  green  colour."- 
Dr.  Carpenter.     "  After  intently  thinking,  with  closed  eyes,  on  some 
particular  colour,  the  retina  becomes  as  exhausted  by  the  image  as  if 
it  had  been  exposed  to  an  objective  stimulus  of  colour  "-G.  H.  Lewes. 
"  If  with  closed  eyes  we  keep  before  the  imagination  a  bright-coloured 
object  for  a  long  time,  and  then  suddenly  open  the  eyes  upon  a  white 
surface,  we  may  see  for  an  instant  the  imaginary  object  with  a  com- 
plementary colour." — Th.  Ribot. 

2  "  I  have  a  distinct  consciousness  that  in  the  internal  representa- 
tion of  visible  objects  the  same  organs  are  at  work  which  operate 
in  the  external  perception  of  these  ;  and  the  same  holds  good  in  an 
imagination  of  the  objects  of  hearing,  touch,  taste,  and  smell.  .  .  . 
But  not  only  sensible  perceptions,  voluntary  motions  likewise  are 
imitated  in  and  by  the  imagination.     I  can  in  imagination  represent 
the  action  of  speech,  the  play  of  the  muscles  of  the  countenance,  the 
movement  of  the  limbs ;  and  when  I  do  this  I  feel  clearly  that  I 
awaken  a  kind  of  tension  in  the  same  nerves  through  which,  by  an 
act  of  will,  I  can  determine  an  overt  and  voluntary  motion  of  the 
muscles." — Sir  W.  Hamilton.     "  In  mentally  recalling  a  verbal  train 
we  seem  to  repeat  on  the  tongue  the  very  words." — Prof.  Bain. 

8  u  The  question  of  time  necessary  for  the  performance,  so  to  speak, 
of  an  idea  ...  is  sometimes  not  less  than  the  time  required  for 
the  performance  of  a  muscular  movement." — Dr.  Maudsley.  "A 
musician  can  compress  the  keys  of  a  harpsichord  with  his  fingers  in  the 
order  of  a  tune  he  has  been  accustomed  to  play  in  as  little  time  as  he 
can  run  over  these  notes  in  his  mind." — Dr.  E.  Darwin. 


WHAT  IT  IS.  35 

Hence  the  sluggard,  by  going  over  and  over  again  in 
thought  something  that  he  ought  to  do,  may  actually 
exhaust  his  physical  powers  more  than  if  he  had  really 
done  it,  and  that  exactly  in  the  same  way.1  Thus  every 
act  of  memory  is  a  physical  act,  accomplished  through 
the  operation  of  physical  organs  as  much  as  is  writing 
or  speaking.2 

But  not  only  is  every  sensation  produced,  and  its 
recall  in  idea  attended  by  motion,  but  it  is  now  an 
accepted  doctrine  of  physiology  that  every  thought  that^ 
passes  through  the  mind  produces  motion  .a»4-  change 
in  the  material  orgamsnToTour  bodies,  particularly  the 
brain.3  Tnts~will  be  seen  to  naturally  follow  from  what 
has  been  said,  when  we  remember  that  there  can  be  no 
thought  or  idea  in  the  mind  that  has  not  originated  in  a 

1  M  The  long  wavering  deliberation  has  often  cost  more  to  feeling 
than  the  action  itself,  or  a  series  of  such  actions  would  have  cost ; 
with  the  great  disadvantage,  too,  of  not  being  relieved  by  any  of  that 
invigoration  which  the  man  of  action  finds  in  the  activity  itself." 
— John  Foster. 

2  "  Memory  ...  is  a  faculty  so  intimately  associated  with  the 
operation  of  the  vital  forces,  that  no  man  doubts  its  entire  de- 
pendence upon  corporeal  states." — Dr.  Laycock.     "  We  have  in  our 
own  consciousness  of  effort,  and  in  our  experience  of  subsequent 
fatigue,  a  very  strong  indication  that  the  power  which  thus  controls 
and  directs  the  current  of  thought  is  of  the  same  kind  with  that  which 
calls  forth  volitional  contraction  in  the  muscles,  though  exerted  in  a 
different  mode/' — Dr.  Carpenter. 

3  "  Just  as  no  single  action  of  the  body  takes  place  without  the 
waste  of  some  muscular  tissue,  so  it  is  believed  that  no  thought  takes 
place  without  some  waste  of  the  brain." — Prof.  Drummond.     "  Every 
action  of  the  animal  body,  whether  mental  or  muscular,  is  accom- 
plished at  the  expense  and  accompanied  by  the  destruction  of  a  portion 
of  the  fabric  of  which  it  is  composed." — Dr.  G.  Holmes.     "  A  certain 
change  of  composition  of  the  organized  fabric  is  a  necessary  condition 
of  every  manifestation  of  its  vital  activity." — Dr.  Carpenter.      "  It 
is  admitted  by  all  that  every  change  in  the  consciousness  is  coinci- 
dent with  some  vital  change  in  the  encephalon.  .  .  .  Without  this 
vital  change  no  mental  phenomena  whatever  are  manifested." — Dr. 
Laycock. 


36  MEMOEY. 

sensation.1  Even  our  most  abstract ^e^cs^s  of  beauty 
or  virtue,  come  to  us  from  the  contemplation  of  beauti- 
ful objects  and  virtuous  actions.2/  It  is  natural,  then, 
to  suppose  that  as  these  beautifm  objects  and  virtuous 
actions  are  produced  and  recalled  by  motion,  so  likewise 
must  be  the  abstract  ideas^hich  are  formed  from  them.3 
Indeed,  we  are  of  the  opinion  of  those  who  hold  that 
each  specific  thought  lias  its  specific  seat  in  the  brain, 
and  that  ther<£  is  a  constant  and  unvarying  connection 
between  the  two.4 

"  There  is  nothi/g  in  the  intellect  that  has  not  come  to  it  through 
the  senses  but  the  intellect  itself, — the  rational  power  by  which  the 
material  of  the  senses  is  raised  into  the  region  of  intellectual  ideas." 
— /.  D.  Morell.  "  All  our  ideas,  like  all  our  emotions,  are  redu- 
cible to  a  sensorial  impression,  as  the  fundamental  condition  of  their 
occurrence.  This  sensorial  impression  is  at  the  bottom  of  all  our 
ideas,  all  our  conceptions,  though  it  may  at  first  conceal  itself  in  the 
form  of  a  binary,  ternary,  quaternary  compound." — H,  Spencer. 

2  "  In  no  case  can  an  abstract  word  be  rendered  into  thought  with- 
out some  one  or  more  of  the  concrete  meanings  embraced  by  it  being 
thought  of." — H.  Spencer.  "  Our  idea  of  life  is  nothing  but  the  idea 
of  something  living ;  of  truth  but  of  something  true  ;  of  causation 
but  of  something  causing ;  of  time  but  of  something  lasting ;  of  space 
but  of  something  extended." — S.  Bailey.  "  Every  person  can  try  for 
himself  whether  he  has  any  conception  of  a  general  proposition  called 
an  abstraction  without  necessarily  referring  to  external  objects  as 
examples." — Dr.  Biichner. 

8  "  If  you  wonder  what  organs  of  sense  can  be  excited  into  motion 
when  you  call  up  the  ideas  of  wisdom  or  benevolence  ...  I  ask 
you  by  what  organs  of  sense  you  first  become  acquainted  with  these 
ideas  ?"— Dr.  E.  Darwin. 

4  "Every  idea  of  the  mind  is  associated  with  a  corresponding  change 
in  some  part  or  parts  of  the  brain  ;  and  the  physical  changes  in  these 
parts  give  rise  to  a  corresponding  manifestation  of  ideas." — Todd  and 
Boivman.  "  If  every  state  of  consciousness  implies  as  an  integral 
part  a  nervous  action  and  if  this  action  produces  a  permanent 
modification  of  the  nervous  centre,  the  state  of  consciousness  will 
also  be  recorded  in  the  same  place  and  manner." — Th.  Ribot. 
"  I  can  hardly  imagine  that  any  profound  scientific  thinker,  who 
has  reflected  upon  the  subject,  exists  who  would  not  admit  the 
extreme  probability  of  the  hypothesis,  that  for  every  fact  of  conscious- 
ness, whether  in  the  domain  of  sensation,  thought,  or  of  motion,  a 


WHAT  IT  IS.  87 

There  is  every  reason  to  believe  that  the  changes 
which  result  from  these  movements  are  not  evanescent, 
that  they  do  not  vanish  as  soon  as  the  causes  by  which 
they  were  produced  have  passed  away,  but  that,  on  the 
contrary,  they  remain  and  form  a  permanent  record  of 
what  has  passed  through  the  mind — a  written  testimony 
of  all  that  each  one  has  felt  and  thought  and  done  in  the 
past.1  It  cannot  be  supposed  that  the  various  particles 
that  have  been  in  agitation  return  to  exactly  the  same 
condition  as  they  were  in  before.  Subsequent  changes 
will  no  doubt  affect,  and,  it  may  be,  more  or  less 
modify  or  alter  the  effects  of  this  one,  but  no  subse- 
quent change  can  possibly  bring  back  the  various  par- 
ticles to  exactly  the  same  condition  in  which  they  were 
before  this  change  took  place.2  The  change  so  effected 
is  permanent,  and  constitutes,  in  our  view,  the  physical 

certain  definite  molecular  condition  is  set  up  in  the  brain  ;  that  this 
relation  of  physics  to  consciousness  is  invariable,  so  that  given  the 
state  of  the  brain,  the  corresponding  thought  or  feeling  might  be 
inferred  ;  or  given  the  thought  or  feeling,  the  corresponding  state  of 
the  brain  might  be  inferred." — Prof.  Tyndall. 

1  "  It  seems  to  be  a  legitimate  conclusion  that  impressions  made 
upon  the  organs  of  sense  and  transmitted  to  the  brain  produce  some 
actual  change  in  the  minute  organisation  of  the  latter,  and  that  this 
is  subservient,  and,  in  our  present  state  of  existence,  essential  to  the 
memory." — Sir  B.  Brodie.      "We  seem  justified  in  affirming  that 
some  change  must  be  effected  in  the  nervous  centres  by  every  impres- 
sion of  which  we  become  conscious,  whereby  the  impression  is 
organically  perpetuated  in  such  a  manner  as  to  allow  of  its  present- 
ing itself  anew  to  the  cognisance  of  the  mind  at  any  future  time." — 
Vr.  Carpenter.     "  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  registry  of  impres- 
lions  involves  an  actual  structural  change  in  the  ganglion,  which  is 
of  a  permanent  character." — Dr.  Draper. 

2  "  Every  impression  leaves  a  certain  ineffaceable  trace  ;  that  is  to 
lay,  molecules  once  disarranged  and  forced  to  vibrate  in  a  different 
way,  cannot  return  exactly  to  their  primitive  condition." — Th.  Ribot. 
"  When  the  organic  modification  has  been  once  fixed  in  the  growing 
brain,  it  becomes  a  part  of  the  normal  fabric,  and  is  regularly  main- 
tained by  nutritive  substitution,  so  that  it  may  endure  to  the  end  of 
life,  like  the  scar  of  a  wound." — Dr.  Carpenter. 

5 


38  MEMOKY. 

basis  of  memory.1  In  this  way  we  believe  that  every 
good  or  evil  thought  we  have  ever  entertained,  every 
good  or  evil  act  we  have  ever  done,  is  indelibly  recorded 
in  our  bodily  structure,  to  be  brought  back  to  mmd;  if 
not  in  this  life,  at  least  on  the  Great  Day  of  Account, 
when  our  bodies  will  be  raised  and  the  deeds  of  all  men 
made  manifest.2 

1  "  Every  idea  is  a  permanent,  immutable  impression  in  the  brain, 
which  may  at  any  moment  present  itself  anew  if  the  mind  be  directed 
to  it." — Dr.  J.  Muller.     "  Each  impression  we  receive  leaves  a  trace, 
a  real  physiological  trace  (spur)  behind  it,  which  may  be  revived  and 
brought  again  into  consciousness  under  the  proper  physical  conditions." 
— Dr.  Beneke.     "  In  a  brain  that  is  not  disorganised  by  injury  or 
disease,  the  organic  registrations  are  never  actually  forgotten,  but 
endure  while  life  lasts.     No  wave  of  oblivion  pan  efface  their  charac- 
ters.    Consciousness,  it  is  true,  may  be  impotent  to  recall  them  ;  but 
a  fever,  a  blow  on  the  heacl,  a  poison  in  the  blood,  a  dream,  the  agony 
of  drowning,  the  hour  of  death,  rending  the  veil  between  our  present 
consciousness  and  these  inscriptions,  will  sometimes  call  vividly  back 
in  a  momentary  flash,  and  call  back,  too,  with  all  the  feelings  of  the 
original  experience,  much  that  seemed  to  have  vanished  from  the 
nrind  for  ever." — Dr.  Maudsley. 

2  "  No  sensation  received,  no  judgment  formed,  no  acquisition,  no 
affection  cherished,  no  passion  gratified,  will  ever  be  found  to  have 
faded  into  nothing,  as  if  they  had  never  been.   .   .   .   Deem  not  this 
to  be  impossible.     In  the  case  of  drowning,  those  who  have  been  pre- 
served and  recover  declare  that  the  whole  of  their  past  lives  did  at 
that  moment  pass  before  them  with  the  velocity  of  lightning." — Dr. 
J.  M'Crie.     Swedenborg  describes  the  angels  as  after  death  examining 
a  man's  features  and  body  in  order  to  ascertain  his  actions  and  con- 
duct in  this  world.     Every  thought  and  volition,  he  was  informed, 
"  is  inscribed  in  the  brain  ;    for  volition  and  thought  have  their 
beginnings  in  the  brain,  whence  they  are   conveyed  to  the  bodily 
organs,  wherein  they  terminate.     Whatever,  therefore,  is  in  the  mind 
is  in  the  brain,  and  passes  from  the  brain  to  the.  body,  according  to 
the  order  of  its  parts.     Thus  a  man  writes  his  life  in  his  physique, 
and  thus  the  angels  discover  his  autobiography  in  his  structure. "- 
A  man's   "character  is  written  in  his  organisation,  and  might  be 
read  there,  had  we  but  senses  acute  enough  to  decipher  the  organic 
letters.    There  is  not  a  thought  of  the  mind,  not  a  feeling  of  the  heart, 
not  an  aspiration  of  the  soul,  not  a  passion  which  finds  vent,  not  a 
deed  which  is  done,  that  is  not  graved  with  an  unfailing  art  in  the 
structure  of  the  body."— Dr.  Maudsley.     "  This,  perchance,  is  the 
dread  Book  of  Judgment  in  whose  mysterious  hieroglyphics  every 
idle  word  is  recorded." — S.  T.  Coleridge. 


WHAT  IT  IS.  39 

The  material  impression  or  change  that  is  effected  in 
the  structure  of  our  bodies  by  every  sensation  we 
experience,  every  thought  we  think,  and  every  action 
we  perform,  is  not--cT5nSn^4ojtil3,e  brain  or  any  one  part, 
of  the  body,  but  extends  to  the  S£^HlLjpa3£o? jprgans 
that  have  been  in  activity.  Each  different  kind  of 
activity  has  its  separate  organs  or  parts  through  which 
it  acts,  and  in  which  some  change  is  effected  by  every 
action  it  performs.1  This  change  is~permaji£nt7 
constitutes,  in  our  view,  the  physical  basis  of  memory, 
which  has  thus  as  many  distinct  seats  as  there  are 
different  forms  of  activity.2 

The  senses  are  improved  by  being  exercised,  and 
this  improvement  is  not  confined  to  the  brain,  for  the 
practised  eye  will  see  and  the  practised  ear  hear  what 
these  organs  when  untrained  cannot  distinguish;3  and 

1  "A  certain  change^tf  composition  of  the  organised  fabric  is  a 
necessary  condition  of  ewry  manifestation  of  its  vital  activity." — Dr. 
Carpenter.  "  It  is  a  matter  of  daily  ob«er  y^ion  that  structure  grows 
to  the  mode  of  its  exercise  .  .  .  thatds  towy,  that  function  develops 
structure  in  the  line  of  its  activity/"-^-Dr.  Maudsley. 

*  Since  "memory  is  connected  with  the  body,  it  must  depend  upon 
some  change  which  mu^happ^jjp  the  primitive  state  of  the  sensible 


fibres  by  the  action  of  ^tjects'^Bt  is  "probable  that  the  state  of  the 
fibres  on  which  an  object  has  acted  is  not  precisely^the  same  after  this 
action  as  it  was  before.  I  have  conjectured  that-lh^sensible'fibres 
experience  more  or  less  durable  inoculations,  which  constitute  the 
physics  of  memory  and  recollection."— Ghas.  Bonnet. 

8  "Let  us  take  a  particular  case — a  good  visual  memory,  for  instance. 
Its  conditions  are  that  the  eye,  the  optic  nerve,  and  those  portions  of 
the  brain  concurring  in  the  act  of  vision,  should  be  finely  developed 
and  act  harmoniously.  These  structures,  superior  by  hypothesis  to 
the  average,  are  perfectly  adapted  to  receive  and  transmit  impres- 
sions. Consequently  the  modifications  of  the  nervous  elements,  as 
well  as  the  dynamical  associations  which  are  formed,  ought  to  be 
more  stable,  more  definite,  and  easier  to  revive  than  those  formed 
in  a  less  favoured  brain.  .  .  .  These  remarks  are  applicable  to 
hearing,  smell,  taste,  and  those  diverse  forms  of  sensibility  comprised 
under  the  general  term  touch — in  fact,  to  all  the  sense-perceptions."— 
Th.  Eibot. 


40  MEMOEY. 

as  with  the  senses  so  with  the  muscles.  The  efficiency 
and  skill  acquired  by  the  handicraftsman  in  the  use  of 
his  tools  does  not  depend  solely  upon  the  brain  and 
nerves,  but  includes  also  the  muscles,  which  have 
become  more  adapted  for  the  performance  of  their  work 
by  each  repeated  act  of  training  they  have  undergone. 
Whatever  parts,  then,  are  concerned  in  the  production 
of  a  sensation,  the  same  parts  are  concerned  in  the 
recollection  of  it,  which  is  simply  a  feebler  form  of  the 
sensation ; x  and  whatever  parts  are  set  in  motion  by 
an  action,  the  same  parts  are  necessary  to  the  full 
and  complete  recollection  of  it,  which  is  in  reality  an 
imperfect  repetition  of  the  action.2  Thus  the  senses 
are  not  only  necessary  for  receiving  impressions,  but  are 
necessary  also  for  imaging  them  in  the  memory ;  and 
the  muscles  are  not  only  necessary  for  the  performance 
of  actions,  but  necessary  also  for  the  fall  remembrance 
of  them.3  Hence  not  the  brain  lione,  but  the  whole 
body  is  the  true  seat  of  the  memory.4  ., 

1  "  Sensations  arising  from  within,  as,  for  'example,  an  idea  of 
whiteness,  are  not  indeed  perceived  with  the  full  freshness  of  those 
raised  by  the  actual  presence  of  wl^te  light  without  us,  but  they  are 
they  are  feebleH^petiti^s  <  ~ 


of  the  same  kind ;  they  are  feeble^ppetiti^B  of  one  and  the  same 
material  brain  process,  of  one  and  me  same  conscious  sensation." — 
Dr.  E.  Bering: 

2  "  Even  when  expressly  using  the  powers  of  recollection,  the  mind 
seems  almost  consciously  to  be  exerting  itself  on  something  without, 
which  is  imperfectly  submitted  to  the  will." — Sir  H.  Holland* 

3  "  In  a  general  way  it  may  be  said  that  the  limbs  and  other 
eensorial  organs  of  the  adult  act  with  facility  only  because  of  the  sum 
of  acquired  and  co-ordinated  movements,  which  forms  for  each  part 
of  the  body  its  special  memory — the  accumulated  capital  upon  which 
it  lives,  and  through  which  it  acts,  just  as  the  mind  lives  and  acts  in 
the  medium  of  past  experience.     To  the  same  category  belong  those 
groups  of  movements  of  a  more  artificial  character,  which  constitute 
tlie  apprenticeship  of  the  manual  labourer,  and  are  called  into  action 
in  games  of  skill,  bodily  exercises,  &c.;> — Th.  JRibok 

4  u  There  is  memory  in  every  .  .  .  organic  element  of  the  b**^ 
»  ,  .  The  manner  in  which  the  scar  of  a  cut  on  a  child's  finger  gi'o\** 


WHAT  IT  IS.  41 

The  nature  of  the  memory  of  a  particular  act  or 
impression  depends  on  the  nature  of  the  change  which 
is  effected  in  the  parts  concerned.  It  may  make  a  deep 
or  a  slight  impression,  a  clear  or  a  blurred  one.  Much 
will  depend  on  the  degree  of  attention  which  the  mind 
gives  to  it.  When  little,  the  impression  will  be  slight, 
also  when  not  regarded  for  a  sufficient  length  of  time. 
When  mixed  up  with  others,  it  will  be  blurred  and 
indistinct.  Much,  too,  depends  upon  the  state  of  the 
body.  In  youth  the  body  is  easily  impressed,  and  the 
impressions  then  made  are  lasting  ;  whereas  in  old  age 
impressions  are  formed  with  difficulty,  and  are  difficult 
of  recall.1  When  the  body  is  exhausted  by  fatigue  or 
by  disease,  or  suffers  from  want  of  nourishment,  the 
impressions  will  be  slight  and  made  with  difficulty.2 
When,  on  the  other  hand,  the  body  is  fresh  and  vigorous, 
impressions  are  easily  made,  and  are  usually  lasting. 
Whatever  strongly  excites  the  mind,  or  presents  itself 
when  the  mind  is  under  strong  excitement,  makes  a 
lasting  impression.  If  the  curiosity  is  strongly  excited 
about  a  thing,  it  readily  fixes  itself  in  the  mind.  Fre- 
quent repetition  is,  as  everyone  knows,  a  common  way 
of  fixing  a  thing  in  the  memory.  Hence  in  proportion 

as  the  body  grows,  evinces,  as  Mr.  Paget  has  pointed  out,  that 
the  organic  element  of  the  part  does  not  forget  the  impression  that 
has  been  made  upon  it.  ...  The  permanent  effect  of  a  particular 
virus  on  the  constitution,  as  that  of  smallpox  or  of  syphilis,  proves  that 
the  organic  element  remembers  for  the  rest  of  life  certain  modifica- 
tions which  it  has  suffered." — Dr.  Maudsley. 

1  "  We  find,  for  example,  that  new  acquirements  are  easiest  and 
most  rapid  during  early  life,  the  time  of  most  vigorous  growth  of  the 
body  generally.     We  find  also  that  rest  and  nutrition  are  as  much 
needed  for  educating  the  organs  as  for  keeping  up  the  bodily  health." 
• — Prof.  Bain. 

2  "  Fatigue  in  any  form  is  fatal  to  memory  ;  the  received  impres- 
sions are  not  fixed ;  reproduction  is  slow,  often  impossible." — H. 
Spencer.    INo  one  "  can  go  through  a  laborious  recollection  or  train  of 
reasoning  when  the  body  is  exhausted  and  feeble75. — Sir  H.  Holland, 


42  MEMORY. 

as  we  exercise  or  cultivate  any  form  of  activity,  we 
strengthen  and  improve  the  memory  of  it ;  that  is  to 
say,  we  multiply  deeper  and  render  more  distinct  the 
material  traces  on  which  the  memory  of  it  depends.1 

As  the  mind  is  single,  and  each  different  form  of 
activity  has  its  distinct  seat,  it  follows  that  if  we  wish 
to  impress  a  particular  subject  or  form  of  activity  on 
the  mind,  we  must  do  so  by  itself.  Activities  of  the 
same  kind  are  impressed,  and  stored  up  in  the  same 
parts;  activities  of  different  kinds  in  different  parts. 
Hence  when  we  attempt  to  carry  on  several  new 
activities  at  the  same  time,  it  can  only  be  done  imper- 
fectly and  at  great  loss  of  power,  by  the  mind  passing 
rapidly  from  one  seat  to  another.  After  the  impressions 
are  once  formed,  there  is  no  difficulty  in  associating 
them  together. 

We  have  dwelt  upon  this  because  we  think  it  of 
importance  to  establish  the  doctrine  of  the  physical 
basis  of  memory.2  There  are  many  of  its  phenomena 
that  it  is  impossible  to  explain  unless  we  adopt  this 
view,  and  by  bearing  it  in  mind  we  obtain  light  and 
leading  on  much  that  is  otherwise  dark  and  mysterious.8 

1  "  The  registering  of  experiences,  it  appears,  is  accomplished 
by  a  modification  of  the  nervous  structure.   .  .   .  The  greater  the 
amount  of  force  brought  to  bear  in  affecting  the  nerves,  the  more 
complete  and  permanent  will  be  the  modification,  and  hence  the  more 
indelible  will  be  the  registry.     The  greater  the  quantity  of  sensation 
.  .  .  the  stronger  will  be  the  impression." — D.  G.  Thompson. 

2  "  There  is  no  part  of  our  purely  psychical  activity  the  relation  cf 
which  to  physical  conditions  is  more  obvious  and  more  intimate  than 
that  reproduction  of  past  states  of  consciousness  which  ...   we 
call  memory." — Dr.  Carpenter.     "The  manifold  disorders  to  which 
memory  is  liable  illustrate  in  the  most  complete  manner  its  organic 
nature." — Dr.  Maudsley. 

3  "  Whatever  tends  to  produce  a  healthy  state  of  brain  in  all  its 
functions  best  contributes  to  repair  default  in  the  memory  or  recol- 
lective  power." — Sir  H.  Holland.     "  It  is  possible  that  by  accurate 
observation  the  proper  means  may  be  discovered  of  preserving  that 


WHAT  IT  IS.  43 

Thus  when  we  try  to  recall  something  we  have  forgotten, 
we  naturally  go  back  in  thought  to  the  time  or  occasion 
when  it  was  previously  in  the  mind,  and  so  recover  it.1 
For  instance,  we  meet  a  person  in  the  street  whom  we 
remember  to  have  seen  somewhere  before,  but  we 
cannot  recollect  where  or  when.  We  go  over  in  thought 
the  various  occasions  on  which  we  think  it  likely  we 
may  have  met  him,  and  for  a  time  it  may  be  in  vain ; 
but  at  length  we  come  upon  the  exact  time :  the  whole 
scene  at  once  flashes  up  before  us,  and  we  remember 
him  perfectly.  In  this  we  resemble  the  person  who, 
having  lost  a  jewel  or  a  piece  of  money  or  other  valu- 
able, goes  to  look  for  it  in  the  place  where  he  last  had 
it  or  saw  it.2  In  this  case  the  object  is  material,  and 
will,  we  know,  remain  in  the  place  where  it  was  left ; 
but  we  find  our  thoughts  and  ideas  also  remaining 
where  they  were  left,  as  if  they,  too,  were  material. 
Did  we  not  succeed  in  recalling  the  particular  occasion  on 

temperament  of  the  brain  which,  is  favourable  to  memory,  and  of 
remedying  the  disorders  of  that  temperament." — Sir  B.  Brodie. 

1  "  Who  has  not,  in  order  to  recover  an  impression  momentarily 
lost,  made  his  way  to  the  spot  where  the  idea  first  arose,  in  order  to 
place  himself  as  far  as  possible  in  the  same  material  situation ;  and  at 
length  find  it  suddenly  revived  1 " — Th.  Ribot.     "  If  we  would  recover 
an  absent  idea,  we  may  often  do  so  by  recalling  those  circumstances 
of  time,  place,  company,  &c.,  wherein  we  first  observed,  heard,  or 
learnt  it," — Isaac  Watts.     "  If  we  wish  to  reproduce  any  sensational 
state  ...  we  first  recall  by  recollection  the  notion  of  some  object 
by  which  that  state  was  formerly  produced  ;  and  it  is  only  by  giving 
our  attention  strongly  to  that  notion  that  we  can  bring  ourselves  to 
see,  hear,  smell,  taste,  or  feel  that  which  we  desire  to  experience." — 
Dr.  Carpenter. 

2  "  Often  when  we  do  not  immediately  call  to  mind  what  we  wish 
to  remember,  we  set  ourselves,  as  it  were,  to  search  for  it :  we  medi- 
tate on  other  things  or  persons  that  seem  to  be  like  it,  or  contrary  to  it, 
or  contiguous,  or  to  bear  any  other  relation  to  that  we  are  in  quest  of ; 
and  thus,  perhaps,  we  at  last  remember  it."    This  "  resembles  the 
procedure  of  those  who,  missing  something  valuable,  look  for  it  in 
every  place  where  they  think  they  might  -have  been  when  they 
dropped  it,  and  thus  recover  what  they  had  lost". — Dr.  Beattie. 


44  MEMORY. 

which  we  had  previously  met  the  individual,  supposing 
we  had  done  so  only  once,  we  should  no  more  recollect 
him  than  the  person  would  succeed  in  finding  his  lost 
jewel  without  going  to  the  place  where  it  actually  was. 

When  we  call  to  mind  a  past  event,  we  do  not  recall 
it  merely  as  a  mental  ifea  or  impression,  but  we  seem 
to  see  it  again  as  we  saw  it  at  first,  with  all  its  attend- 
ing circumstances,  only  with  less  distinctness.  The 
beautiful  castle  I  saw  last  summer  I  recall,  not  simply 
as  an  idea  or  by  itself,  but  I  seem  to  be  again  gazing 
upon  it ;  and  I  see  it  now,  ais  I  saw  it  then,  with  the 
walks  about  it,  the  trees  around  it,  the  hills  beyond,  and 
the  bright  summer's  sun  shining  overhead.1  The  one, 
indeed,  appears  to  have  not  a  little  of  the  materiality  of 
the  other;  nor  is  this  to  be  wondered  at  when  we 
remember  that  all  that  I  perceived  in  the  first  case  was 
certain  impressions  made  by  the  action  of  light  upon 
the  retina  of  my  eye,  and  that  in  all  probability  the 
same  parts  are  affected  in  the  recalled  impressions 
as  were  concerned  in  the  original  ones. 

Further,  with  regard  to  a  past  impression,  we  can  not 
only  assert  that  it  was  in  the  mind  before,  but  we  can 
usually  fix  the  exact  time  when  it  was  so.  We  can  say, 
for  instance,  that  it  was  last  week  or  last  month  or  five 
or  ten  years  ago.  In  endeavouring  to  determine  the 

1  "  When  I  recall  an  object  of  sight  hy  the  power  of  memory,  it 
appears  to  me  precisely  the  same  as  in  the  original  survey,  only 
less  distinct.  For  example,  having  seen  yesterday  a  spreading  oak 
growing  on  the  bank  of  a  river,  I  endeavour  to  recall  these  objects  to 
my  mind.  How  is  this  operation  performed  ?  Do  I  endeavour  to 
form  in  my  mind  a  picture  of  them  or  representative  image?  Not 
so.  I  transport  myself  ideally  to  the  place  where  I  saw  the  tree  and 
river  yesterday ;  upon  which  I  have  a  perception  of  these  objects, 
similar  in  all  respects  to  the  perception  I  had  when  I  viewed  them  with 
my  eyes,  only  less  distinct.  And  in  this  recollection  I  am  not  conscious 
of  a  picture  or  representative  image  more  than  in  the  original  survey  ; 
the  perception  is  of  a  tree  and  river,  as  at  first." — Lord  Kames. 


WHAT  IT   IS.  45 

time  when  it  occurred  we  may  perhaps  call  to  mind 
one  event,  and  say Jt  was  before  that,  and  another,  and 
say  it  was  after  thatTtilTwe  come  upon  the  exact  time ; 
precisely  in  the  same  way  as  we  can  turn  to  a  particu- 
lar passage  in  a  book  we  have  read.  The  treasures  of  our 
memory  would  thus  seem  to  be  laid  up  in  distinct  layers 
or  recorded  in  consecutive  pages  like  the  matter  of  a  book.1 
Thus  children  who  have  learnt  to  speak  in  several  lan- 
guages never  confuse  them.  When  asked  a  question  in 
one  language  they  always  reply  in  that  language. 

Hence  in  recollection  the  great  difficulty  usually  is  to 
make  a  beginning — to  get  the  first  word  of  a  sentence, 
the  first  letter  of  a  word,  something  that  will  lead  us  to 
the  right  place,  or  set  the  mind  on  the  right  groove — • 
and  then  it  will  run  on  with  little  difficulty.  We 
sometimes  search  the  memory  in  vain  for  a  thing  for  a 
long  time  till  we  come  upon  some  link — a  word,  it  may 
be,  or  a  name — and  then  all  at  once  the  whole  thing 
flashes  up  before  us.  A  friend  tries  to  bring  to  our 
recollection  something  that  happened  long  ago — some 
school-boy  exploit,  it  may  be,  in  which  we  took  part. 
We  fail  to  recall  it  till  he  mentions  a  particular  cir- 
cumstance, or  names  some  one  who  was  present,  and 
then  all  at  once  the  whole  scene  is  brought  vividly  to 
our  recollection,  as  if  it  had  happened  only  yesterday.2 

1 "  The  exact  observance  of  the  order  of  place  in  visible  ideas, 
and  of  the  order  of  time  in  audible  ones,  may  serve  to  show  that 
these  ideas  are  copies  and  offsprings  of  the  impressions  made  on  the 
eye  and  ear,  in  which  the  same  orders  were  observed  respectively." 
—Dr.  D.  Hartley. 

1  It  is  related  of  a  distinguished  equity  judge  that,  in  listening  to 
the  further  proceedings  in  a  case  that  had  previously  been  before 
him,  he  had  no  recollection  of  it  till,  "  in  the  course  of  the  argument, 
some  word,  phrase,  or  incident  has  furnished  a  suggestion  that  has 
served  at  once  to  bring  the  whole  case  vividly  into  his  recollection,  aa 
if  a  curtain  had  been  drawn  away  and  a  complete  picture  presented 
to  his  view". — Dr.  Carpenter. 


46  MEMORY. 

We  may  have  striven  to  recollect  something  for  a 
long  time  in  vain,  and  afterwards  it  may  occur  to  us 
suddenly  when  perhaps  we  are  not  thinking  of  it, 
having,  as  it  were,  come  unexpectedly  upon  the  place 
where  it  lay.1  Sometimes,  again,  it  may  be  said  that 
we  were  told  something  or  other,  and  we  may  be  un- 
conscious of  ever  having  heard  it  before,  and  yet  per- 
haps, days  or  weeks  afterwards,  through  the  accidental 
shining  in,  as  it  were,  of  light  on  some  dark  corner  of 
the  memory,  the  circumstance  may  be  brought  to  our 
recollection. 

In  endeavouring  to  recover  a  lost  idea,  we  sometimes 
seem  to  know  what  or  where  it  is,  and  yet  we  feel 
unable  to  get  at  it  or  grasp  it.  Numerous  other  ideas, 
more  or  less,  it  may  be,  resembling  it  or  related  to  it, 
come  up,  and  they  seem,  as  it  were,  to  obstruct  or 
hinder  our  getting  at  the  right  one.  We  feel  that  if 
we  could  get  away  from  these,  or  banish  them  from 
the  mind,  we  would  get  nearer  to  what  we  are  in  search 
of.  Hence  some  have  said  that  forgetfulness  is  nothing 
but  the  remembrance  of  wrong  ideas,  or  the  presence 
in  the  mind  of  ideas  other  than  those  we  are  seeking. 
At  all  events,  forgetfulness  is  an  important  condition  of 
memory,  and  we  must  temporarily  forget  many  things 
in  order  to  remember  some  things  well.2 

1  "  Once  lodged  in  the  brain  or  mind,  an  impression  may  lie  dor- 
mant indefinitely,  until  some  discharge  of  mental  force  or  energy 
happens  to  take  place  through  the  particular  layer  or  stratum  of 
corpuscles  which  embodies  the  record  of  the  idea." — Dr.  M.  Granville. 

2  "If  our  impressions   of  the  past  were  not  .  .  .  liable  to  be 
abated,  borne  down,  or  obscured  and  obliterated,  there  would  in 
most  minds  be  certain  vivid  recollections  that  would  continue  to 
usurp  the  entire  consciousness,  and  so  exclude  the  present  with  its 
fainter    sensations,    its    interests,   and    its    duties." — Isaac   Taylor. 
u  Without  the  total  oblivion  of  an  immense  number  of  states  of  con- 
sciousness, and  the  momentary  repression  of  many  more,  recollection 
would  be  impossible." — Th. 


CHAPTER  H. 

MATTER   AND    MIND. 

11  The  popular  or  habitual  conception  of  mankind  in  general  Is  that  there  are 
two  distinct  worlds,  mixed  up  in  the  phenomenal  cosmos— a  world  of  mind,  con- 
sisting of  multitudes  of  individual  minds,  and  a  world  of  matter,  consisting  of 
all  the  extended  immensity  and  variety  of  material  objects."— Prof.  Masson. 

"What  matter  is  independent  of  our  perception,  what  mind  is  independent 
of  its  temporary  varieties  of  feeling,  it  is  impossible  for  us  to  discover."— Dr. 
Tkos.  Brown. 

"We  cannot  tell  what  matter  is  in  itself  or  what  spirit  is  in  itself ;  but  we 
mean  by  matter  that  which  has  length,  depth,  and  breadth,— the  properties  which 
are  revealed  to  us  by  our  outward  senses ;  we  mean  by  spirit  that  which  is  not 
bound  to  the  conditions  of  space,  which  is  not  known  to  us  by  our  bodily  senses 
immediately,  but  by  a  revelation  sui  generis  called  consciousness."— S.  T.  Coleridge. 

"  What  I  call  my  body  is  a  persistent  aggregate  of  objective  phenomena, — and 
my  soul  is  a  persistent  aggregate  of  subjective  phenomena :  the  one  is  an  indi- 
vidualised group  of  experiences  expressible  in  terms  of  matter  and  motion,  and 
therefore  designated  physical;  the  other  an  individualised  group  of  experiences 
expressible  in  terms  of  feeling,  and  therefore  designated  psychical."— Q.  H.  Lewes. 

/CLAIMING-  as  we  do  a  material  basis  for  the 
\J  memory,  we  deem  it  necessary  to  explain  at  some 
length  what  we  understand  thereby,  especially  as  it  is 
a  subject  on  which  no  little  ignorance  an^  prejudice 
commonly  prevail.  What  matter  is  by  itself  or  what 
mind  is  by  itself,  we  know  and  can  know  nothing. 
Certain  phenomena,  or  appearances,  present  themselves 
to  our  bodily  senses,  and  we  attribute  them  to  matter; 
certain  other  phenomena  reveal  themselves  to  our  inner 
sense,  or  consciousness,  and  these  we  attribute  to  mind. 
Were  we  endowed  with  more  seijses  than  we  have  at 
present,  or  were  those  we  now  possess  more  powerful 
than  they  are,  we  cannot  doubt  that  our  knowledge 
of  the  so-called  material  world  would  be  greatly  ex- 


48  MEMORY. 

tended,  and  probably  much  that  we  now  regard  as 
mental  might  be  found  to  be  the  result  of  physical 
causes ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  were  our  conscious- 
ness much  extended  so  as,  for  instance,  to  take  cogniz- 
ance of  some  of  those  material  changes  which  we  know 
to  accompany  every  thought  that  passes  through  the 
mind,  we  might  find  mind  to  be  much  more  dependent 
upon  physical  causes  than  is  generally  believed  at 
present.1 

Formerly,  when  consciousness  reigned  supreme,  and 
was  regarded  as  the  ground  of  all  our  knowledge,  the 
world  of  mind  was  everything,  that  of  matter  as  nothing 
in  comparison.  "  On  earth,"  said  the  philosopher, 
"there  is  nothing  great  but  man;  in  man  there  is 
nothing  great  but  mind."  Men  then  talked  with  pride 
of  the  mastery  achieved  by  mind  over  matter,  which 
was  compelled  to  submit  its  gigantic  powers  to  its  will, 
and  from  being  an  uncontrollable  tyrant  to  become  the 
most  submissive  and  obedient  of  servants.  Every  fresh 
victory  gained  over  matter  seemed  only  to  bring  out 
more  clearly  the  unlimited  power  of  mind,  and  to  hold 
it  up  as  the  one  thing  worthy  of  supreme  regard. 

This,  however,  is  no  longer  the  case.  Men  have 
discovered  that  every  thought  that  passes  through  the 

1 "  We  have  no  reason  for  believing  that  the  sensibility  of  the 
mind  of  man  exhausts  the  properties  of  matter  or  is  percipient  of  all 
possible  forms  of  existence  in  space.  Other  senses  might  make  new 
discoveries  no  less  surprising  than  the  sense  of  sight  to  one  who  has 
been  born  blind.  It  is  even  conceivable  that  substances  may  exist 
contiguous  to  us  in  space,  yet  be  as  nothing  to  us,  because  their  pro- 
perties bear  no  relation  to  our  sensibility." — R.  A.  Thompson.  "  The 
addition  of  one  new  sense  .  .  .  might  probably,  in  a  few  hours, 
communicate  more  instruction  with  respect  to  matter,  than  all  which 
is  ever  to  repay  and  consummate  the  physical  labours  of  mankind." 
— Dr.  Chalmers.  "  Consciousness  gives  no  account  of  the  essential 
material  conditions  which  underlie  every  mental  manifestation  and 
determine  the  character  of  it."— Dr.  H.  Maudsley. 


MATTEE  AND  MIND.  49 

mind  is  attended  with  a  material  change  in  certain 
particles  of  the  body;  so  that  without  some  material 
change  no  conscious  act  of  the  mind  can  take  place.1 
Hence  some  of  the  ablest  thinkers  in  the  present  day  de- 
clare that  there  is  no  such  thing  as  mind  in  the  world 
apart  from  matter;  that  mind  is  simply  the  result  of  a 
certain  combination  of  matter,  or  that  matter  and  mind 
are  only  different  sides  of  one  and  the  same  substance.2 
This  much  is  certain,  that  matter  and  material  laws 
are  largely  concerned  in  all  the  phenomena  of  mind, 
and  the  broad  distinctions  that  were  formerly  believed 
to  exist  between  the  two  no  longer  hold  good.8 

1  "In  the  present  condition  of  our  nature,  the  human  mind  is 
connected  with  a  material  and  organised  substance,  the  body,  with 
which  its  operations  stand  in  a  state  of  union  so  close,  perfect,  and 
necessary,  that  neither  can  act  without  the  action,  direct  or  indirect, 
of  the  other."— Dr.  Pye  Smith.     "  Mind  can  only  manifest  itself  in 
existence  as  it  acts  upon  matter;  without  matter  there  can  be  no 
manifestation  of  mind."— Dr.  Laycock.    "Every  idea,  voluntary  or 
not,  clear  or  obscure,  complex  or  simple,   fugitive  or  persistent^ 
implies  a  determined  molecular  movement  in  the  cerebral  cells.  .  .  . 
Tiiere  is  no  exception  to  this  rule,  the  loftiest  thought,  the  most 
abstract  conception,  is  subject  to  it." — H.  Taine. 

2  "  The  arguments  for  the  two  substances  have,  we  believe,  now 
entirely  lost  their  validity ;  they  are  no  longer  compatible  with 
ascertained  science  and  clear  thinking.    The  one  substance,  with  two 
sets  of  properties,  two  sides,  the  physical  and  mental — a  double-faced 
unity,  would  appear  to  comply  with  all  the  exigencies  of  the  case." — 
Pro/.  Bain.     "  Psychological  analysis  leads  to  the  conclusion  that  the 
objective  process  and  the  subjective  process  are  simply  the  twofold 
aspects  of  one  and  the  same  fact ;  in  the  one  aspect  it  is  the  felt,  and 
the  other  the  feeling." — G.  H.  Lewes.    "  Reduced  to  one  single  fact 
possessed  of  two  aspects  they  evidently  become  like  the  front  and 
reverse  side  of  a  surface,  so  that  the  presence  or  absence  of  the  one  will 
infallibly  result  in  the  presence  or  absence  of  the  other." — H.  Taine. 

8  "  The  purest,  the  most  ideal  sentiment  still  pertains  on  some 
side,  to  organisation.  The  inspiration  of  the  poet,  the  passion  of 
the  lover,  the  enthusiasm  of  the  martyr  have  their  languors  and 
shortcomings  that  often  depend  on  very  pitiable  material  causes." — 
V.  Cousin.  "  The  pluck  by  which  the  British  soldier  is  especially 
distinguished  is  clearly  as  much  physical  as  psychical,'''  —  Dr* 
Carpenter. 


60  MEMORY. 

Consciousness,  to  which  we  are  indebted  for  our 
knowledge  of  mind,  gives  us  no  information  respecting 
those  bodily  conditions  on  which  we  know  that  all.  our 
mental  manifestations  depend,  or  of  those  molecular 
movements  that  attend  every  act  of  the  mind.  "While 
I  am  conscious  of  seeing  an  object  before  me,  I  am 
quite  unconscious  of  the  change  that  has  taken  place 
on  the  retina,  or  of  the  movements  occasioned  in  the 
nerves  and  brain  before  it  can  be  apprehended  by  the 
mind.1 

"Even  with  regard  to  its  own  domain,  consciousness 
affords  us  but  very  imperfect  information.  It  instructs 
us  indeed  respecting  those  sensations,  thoughts,  or  emo- 
tions that  may  be  directly  present  to  the  mind,  but  it 
tells  us  nothing  of  what  is  constantly  going  on  in  that 
much  vaster  ultra-conscious  region  where  the  higher 
operations  of  the  mind  are  carried  on,  and  where  reside 
thoughts,  feelings,  and  emotions  which  largely,  though 
unconsciously,  influence  our  daily  life  and  animate  our 
conduct.  Consciousness  tells  a  man  that  he  is  a  free 
agent;  but  beyond  the  sphere  of  consciousness  there 
are  influences  with  which  he  has  to  reckon,  and  reason 
and  statistics  go  to  prove  that  he  is  by  no  means  so 
free  as  he  believes  himself  to  be.  (See  Chapter  VI., 
"  Mind  Conscious  and  Unconscious".) 

The  true  explanation  of  the  difficulty,  or  rather  to 
us  the  impossibility,  of  bridging  over  the  gulf  that 
separates  matter  and  mind  seems  to  be  that  the  infor- 
mation we  receive  respecting  them  reaches  us  through 

1  "  Consciousness,  which  cannot  even  tell  us  that  we  have  a  brain, 
is  certainly  not  capable  of  making  known  the  different  brain-changes 
that  go  along  with  its  manifold  affections." — Dr.  Maudsley.  "  In- 
dependently of  observation  of  the  external  mechanism,  and  of  anato- 
mical research,  he  is  wholly  ignorant  that  he  has  a  brain,  or  nerves, 
or  heart,  or  stomach,  or  lungs,  or  eliminating  organs,  and  a  fortiori 
of  the  working  or  functions  of  those  organs."— Dr.  Laycock. 


MATTER  AND  MIND.  51 

different  channels.1  The  phenomena  of  mind  are  re- 
vealed to  us  by  a  different  sense,  come  to  us  through  a 
different  route,  from  those  through  which  we  receive 
our  knowledge  of  the  outer  world.  As  in  the  case  of 
our  bodily  senses,  we  cannot  by  one  sense  apprehend 
the  qualities  belonging  to  another, — cannot,  for  instance, 
hear  a  colour,  or  taste  or  smell  a  colour,  any  more  than 
we  can  see  a  sound,  or  taste  or  smell  a  sound, — so  we 
believe  that  it  is  impossible  for  us,  as  at  present  con- 
stituted, to  apprehend  any  of  the  phenomena  of  con- 
sciousness by  our  bodily  senses,  or  material  phenomena 
by  consciousness  alone,  apart  from  our  bodily  senses.2 
"  The  passage  from  the  physics  of  the  brain  to  the 
corresponding  facts  of  consciousness  is,"  says  Professor 
Tyndall,  "unthinkable.  Granted  that  a  definite  thought 
and  a  definite  molecular  action  of  the  brain  occur  simul- 
taneously, we  do  not  possess  the  intellectual  organ,  nor 
apparently  any  rudiment  of  the  organ,  which  would 
enable  us  to  pass  by  a  process  of  reasoning  from  the 
one  phenomenon  to  the  other."  Were  we  possessed  of 
all  knowledge,  so  that  we  could  look  nature  through 
and  through,  all  its  parts  would  doubtless  be  seen  to  be 

1 "  The  gulf  between  the  conception  of  the  movements  of  cerebral 
molecules  and  the  self-consciousness  of  will-energy,  may  well  be  due  to 
the  different  ways  of  acquiring  them ;  molecular  motion  and  will  being 
one  and  the  same  event  seen  under  different  aspects." — Dr.  Maudsley. 

2  "  When  we  examine  closely  the  idea  of  a  sensation  and  the  idea 
of  a  molecular  movement  of  the  nervous  centres,  we  find  that  they 
enter  by  routes  not  merely  different  but  contrary.  The  first  comes 
from  within  without  any  intermediate,  the  seconcl  comes  from  with- 
out through  several  intermediates.  .  .  .  One  and  the  same  single 
event  known  in  these  two  ways  will  appear  double  ;  and  whatever 
be  the  link  which  experience  establishes  between  its  two  manifesta- 
tions we  shall  never  be  able  to  convert  one  of  them  into  the  other. 
According  as  its  representation  comes  from  without  or  within,  it  will 
invariably  appear  as  a  thing  without  or  a  thing  within,  and  we  shall 
never  be  able  to  reduce  that  which  is  without  to  that  which  is  within, 
or  that  which  is  within  to  that  which  is  without." — H.  Taine. 


52  MEMORY. 

connected  and  interdependent,  and  mind  and  mattei 
might  then  be  found  to  be  after  all  but  two  sides  of  one 
and  the  same  substance.1  "  Man/'  says  John  Milton^ 
"is  a  living  being  intrinsically  and  properly  one  and 
individual,  not  compound  or  separable, — not,  accord- 
ing to  the  common  opinion,  made  up  and  framed  of 
two  distinct  and  different  natures,  as  of  soul  and  body."  2 
This,  which  is  properly  a  scientific  question,  has 
unfortunately  been  too  often  regarded  as  a  theological 
one,  and  the  doctrine  of  the  materiality  of  the  mind 
or  soul  held  to  directly  involve  its  immortality.  "The 
principle,"  says  Dr.  Abercrombie,  "seems  to  have  been 
too  much  lost  sight  of  in  the  discussion  of  this  subject 
that  our  speculations  respecting  the  materiality  of  the 
rational  human  soul  have  no  influence  on  our  belief 
of  its  immortality.  This  momentous  truth  rests  on  a 
species  of  evidence  altogether  different,  which  addresses 
itself  to  the  moral  constitution  of  man.  .  .  .  Though 
we  were  to  suppose,  with  the  materialist,  that  the 
rational  soul  of  man  is  a  mere  chemical  combination 
which,  by  the  dissolution  of  its  elements,  is  dissipated 

1  "  When  we  find  within  us  two  ideas  which  have  entered  by 
different  routes,  we  ought  to  mistrust  the  tendency  which  induces  us 
to  assert  a  difference  and,  above  all,  an  absolute  difference  between 
their  objects.   .   .   .  It  is  possible  then  that  the  sensation  and  the  in- 
ternal movement  of  the  nervous  centres  may  be  at  bottom  one  and  the 
same  unique  event  condemned  by  the  two  ways  in  which  it  io  known 
always  and  irredeemably  to  appear  double.  .  .  .  There  is  nothing  to 
prevent  the  molecular  movements  from  being  the  infinitesimal  ele- 
ments of  the  whole  sensation." — H.  Taine.     "  It  is  we  who  make 
separate  sciences  in  consequence  of  the  constitution  of  our  faculties, 
limiting  our  channels  of  apprehension  to  a  few  special  points  of 
contact  with  the  external." — Dr.  Maudsley. 

2  "  The  union  of  the  soul  and  body  appears  to  me  essential  and 
indissoluble.     Man  without  a  body  is,  in  my  opinion,  man  no  longer; 
and  God  has  thought  and  willed  him  embodied,  and  not  otherwise. 
.  .  .  According  to  this  passage  (in  Genesis),  we  cannot  doubt  that  the 
body  or  a  body  is  essential  to  human  personality  and  to  the  very 
idea  of  man." — A.  Vinet. 


MATTER  AND  MIND.  53 

to  the  four  winds  of  heaven,  where  is  the  improbability 
that  the  Power  which  framed  the  wondrous  compound 
may  collect  these  elements  again  and  combine  them 
anew  for  the  great  purposes  of  his  moral  administra- 
tion?" To  the  same  effect  John  Locke  says :  "All  the 
great  ends  of  morality  and  religion  are  well  enough 
secured  without  philosophical  proofs  of  the  soul's  im- 
materiality, since  it  is  evident  that  He  who  made  us  at 
first  begin  to  subsist  here  sensible,  intelligent  beings, 
and  for  several  years  continue  us  in  such  a  state,  can 
and  will  restore  us  to  the  like  state  of  sensibility  in 
another  world,  and  make  us  capable  there  to  receive 
the  retribution  He  has  designed  to  man  according  to 
their  doings  in  this  life".  "  Milton's  conclusion  is  that 
at  the  last  gasp  of  breath  the  whole  man  dies,  soul  and 
body  together,  and  that  not  till  the  Eesurrection,  when 
the  body  is  revived,  does  the  soul  live  again,  does  the 
man  or  woman  live  again,  in  any  sense  or  way,  whether 
for  happiness  or  misery." — D.  Masson.1  "  That  the  spirit 
of  man  should  be  separate  from  the  body,  so  as  to  have 
a  perfect  and  intelligent  existence  independent  of  it,  is 
nowhere  said  in  Scripture,  and  the  doctrine  is  evidently 
at  variance  both  with  nature  and  reason." — John  Milton. 
The  great  distinguishing  doctrine  of  Christianity  is 
not  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  but  the  resurrection  of 
the  body.2  That  the  soul  of  man  is  immortal  was  a 

1 "  Are  the  souls  of  the  millions  on  millions  of  human  beings  who 
have  died  since  Adam,  are  those  souls  already  either  with  God  and 
the  angels  in  heaven  or  down  in  the  diabolic  world,  waiting  to  be 
rejoined  to  their  bodies  on  the  Resurrection  Day?  They  are  not, 
says  Milton ;  but  souls  and  bodies  together,  he  says,  are  dead  alike, 
sleeping  alike,  defunct  alike,  till  that  day  come," — D.  Masson. 

2 "  Though  mankind  have  at  all  times  had  a  persuasion  of  the 
immortality  of  the  soul,  the  resurrection  of  the  body  is  a  doctrine 
peculiar  to  Christianity,  aud  met  with  no  little  opposition  even  in 
the  apostolic  age," — Dr.  James  Seattle. 
6 


54  MEMORY. 

common  belief  among  the  Ancients,  from  whom  it  found 
its  way  at  an  early  period  into  the  Christian  Church, 
but  the  most  influential  of  the  early  Fathers  were 
strenuously  opposed  to  it,  holding  that  the  human  soul 
was  not  essentially  immortal,  but  only,  like  the  body, 
capable  of  immortality.  "  God  alone/'  says  Justin 
Martyr,  "  is  uncreated  and  incorruptible ;  but  all  other 
things  beside  Him  are  created  and  perishable.  For 
this  reason  souls  both  die  and  are  punished."  l 

Some  theologians  are  apt  to  expatiate  on  the  sinful- 
ness  of  the  flesh,  the  worthlessness  of  the  body,  as 
contrasted  with  the  purity  of  the  spirit,  the  value  of 
an  immortal  soul.  But  this  is  to  misunderstand  the 
teaching  of  Scripture,  and  to  separate  what  God  has 
inseparably  joined  together  in  this  life,  and  will  unite 
for  all  eternity  in  the  world  to  come.2  "  The  original 

1  "  The  belief  that  the  soul  is  inherently  immortal  belongs  to  the 
old-world  philosophy,  and  found  its  way  at  a  later  period  into 
Christian  theology,"  but  "  the  leading  teachers  of  the  early  Church, 
Justin  Martyr,  Theophilus  of  Antioch,  Irenseus,  Arnobius,  Atha- 
nasius,  and  others,  taught  that  the  human  soul,  as  at  first  created, 
is  not  necessarily  mortal  or  inherently  immortal,  that  it  is  capable 
both  of  mortality  and  immortality,  and  .that  it  lives  as  long  as  God 
wills,  or  returns  when  He  wills  to  that  state  in  which  it  was  before 
its  birth." — D.  Milne.     "Some  of  the  most  influential  of  the  early 
Christian  writers  were  materialists,  not  as  holding  the  soul  to  be 
the  mere  result  of  bodily  organisation,  but  as  holding  the  soul  itself 
to  be  material — corporeal.  ...  It  appears  that  in  those  days  the 
vulgar  held  the  soul  to  be  incorporeal,  according  to  the  views  of 
Plato  and  others,  but  that  the  orthodox  Christian  divines  looked 
upon  this  as  an  impious,  unscriptural  opinion.      Justin  Martyr 
argues  against  the  Platonic  nature  of  the  soul." — S.  I.  Coleridgt. 
(See  also  Edward  White :  Life  in  a  Risen  Saviour.) 

2  "  The  immortality  of  the  Gospel  is  not  simply  tte  immortality 
of  the  soul,  it  is  the  immortality  of  humanity.     It  is  man  that  is  to 
live  hereafter,  and  whose  whole  nature,  so  to  speak,  is  to  be  per- 
petuated for  ever." — T.  Binney.     "  The  souls  of  the  blessed  shall  not 
only  be  glorious,  but  their  very  bodies  shall  be  filled  with  glory." — 
Jeremy  Taylor.     "  You  live  again  in  the  body, — in  the  very  body  as 
to  all  essential  properties,  and  to  all  practical  intents  and  purpt>sea 
in  which  you  live  now.  ...   I  am  to  live  not  a  ghost,  a  spectre,  a 


MATTEE  AND  MIND.  55 

matter  of  which  we  speak,"  says  Milton,  *'  is  not  to  be 
looked  upon  as  an  evil  or  a  trivial  thing,  but  as  intrin- 
sically good  and  the  chief  productive  stock  of  every 
subsequent  good."  "  The  union  with  matter,  or  the 
coming  into  a  corporeal  state,  may  be  in  fact  not  a 
degradation  to  mind,  but  the  very  means  of  its  quicken- 
ing, its  birth  into  the  world  of  knowledge  and  action. 
...  A  little  attention  to  what  is  involved  in  the  idea 
of  corporeal  existence  will  incline  us  to  believe  that  it 
is  the  basis  of  intellect^!  activity,  of  moral  agency,  and 
of  communion  or  sociality  among  intelligent  orders/' — 
Isaac  Taylor. 

The  question  more  immediately  before  us,  however, 
is :  Does  the  mind  or  spirit  of  man,  whatever  it  may 
be,  in  its  actings  in  and  through  the  body,  leave  a 
material  impression  or  trace  in  its  structure  of  every 
conscious  action  it  performs,  which  remains  perma- 
nently fixed,  and  forms  a  material  record  of  all  that  it 
has  done  in  the  body,  to  which  it  can  afterwards  refer 
as  to  a  book  and  recall  to  mind,  making  it  again,  as  it 
were,  present  to  it  ?  "  Why/'  asks  Dugald  Stewart, 
"  should  it  be  imagined  that  any  step  is  made  towards 
materialism  by  supposing  that  an  invisible  book  exists 
in  the  sensorium,  by  the  interpretation  of  which  we 
are  enabled  to  perceive  external  objects,  and  by  a 
reference  to  which  we  recover  as  in  a  tablet  the  know- 
ledge which  has  happened  to  escape  from  the  memory?" 
"  The  question,"  he  continues,  "  it  ought  always  to  be 
remembered,  is  not  about  the  nature  of  the  thing  read, 
but  about  the  nature  of  the  reader." 

spirit,  I  am  to  live  then  as  I  live  now,  in  the  body." — Dr.  R.  8. 
Candlish.  "  I  think  that  the  Christian  doctrine  of  the  Kesurrection 
meets  the  materialists  so  far  as  this— that  it  does  imply  that  a  body 
or  an  organisation  of  some  sort  is  necessary  to  the  full  development 
of  man's  nature."— Dr.  T.  Arnold. 


66  MEMORY. 

In  speaking  of  matter  and  material  impressions  in 
connection  with  memory,  we  would  not  be  understood 
to  mean  anything  that  can  be  perceived  by  or  made 
apparent  to  the  senses.  When  we  think  of  matter  we 
usually  imagine  it  as  something  that  can  be  appre- 
hended by  the  senses,  or  by  some  of  the  mechanical 
aids  which  we  employ  to  extend  their  powers.  We  rarely 
think  of  the  material  kingdom  as  extending  vastly 
beyond  the  utmost  limits  that  we  are  able  to  reach  by 
such  means,  and  that  all  the  properties  which  we  attri- 
bute to  matter  stretch  immeasurably  beyond  our  utmost 
ken.1  In  general,  then,  we  may  say  that  we  infer  the 
existence  of  matter  where  we  find  properties  manifested 
that  we  know  to  belong  to  it. 

The  minuteness  of  the  particles  of  bodies  that  may  be 
perceived  by  the  senses  has  often  been  dwelt  upon. 
Thus  a  grain  of  musk  has  been  kept  freely  exposed  to 
the  air  in  a  room  the  doors  and  windows  of  which  were 
constantly  open  for  a  period  of  ten  years,  during  which 
time  the  air  thus  continually  changed  was  completely 
impregnated  with  the  odour,  and  yet  at  the  end  of  that 
time  the  particle  was  not  found  to  have  diminished  per- 
ceptibly in  weight.  The  taste  of  strychnine  is  apparent 

1  "  There  can  "be  no  doubt  that  there  is  as  much  in  the  animal 
structure  beyond  the  reach  of  the  microscope  as  there  is  in  the  vast 
universe  around  us  beyond  the  reach  of  the  telescope." — Sir  B.  Brodie. 
"  This  present  visible  universe  no  more  exhausts  the  totality  of  things 
in  space  than  it  does  in  time  ;  around  it,  and  beneath  it,  and  within 
it  are  modifications  of  material  existence,  of  which  we  can  form  only 
a  very  vague  conception." — Dr.  G.  Beard.  "  The  intimate  researches 
of  modern  physical  science  leave  no  room  to  doubt  that  there  are 
many  agencies  in  activity  about  us  which,  although  they  make 
themselves  known  in  their  ultimate  consequences,  are  not  directly 
cognizable  either  by  the  eye,  the  ear,  the  touch,  the  taste,  or  the 
smell." — Isaac  Taylor.  "We  cannot  detect  the  difference  between 
the  nerve  element  of  a  brain  exhausted  by  exercise  and  incapable  of 
further  function,  and  that  of  a  brain  reinvigorated  by  sleep  and  ready 
for  a  day  of  energetic  function." — Dr.  Maudsley. 


MATTER  AND   MIND.  57 

when  diluted  to  one  in  a  million.  "  Animalcules  have 
been  discovered  ...  so  diminutive  that  a  million  of 
them  do  not  exceed  the  bulk  of  a  grain  of  sand,  and 
yet  each  of  these  creatures  is  composed  of  members  as 
curiously  organised  as  those  of  the  largest  species. 
They  have  life  and  spontaneous  motion,  and  are 
endowed  with  senses  and  natural  impulses." — Dr. 
Hands. 

We  find  nature  everywhere  around  us  recording  its 
movements  and  marking  the  changes  it  has  undergone 
in  material  forms, — in  the  crust  of  the  earth,  the  com- 
position of  the  rocks,  the  structure  of  the  trees,  the 
conformation  of  our  bodies ;  and  those  spirits  of  ours,  so 
closely  connected  with  our  material  bodies,  that,  so  far 
•as  we  know,  they  can  think  no  thought,  perform  no 
action,  without  their  presence  and  co-operation,1  may 
have  been  so  joined  in  order  to  preserve  a  material 
and  lasting  record  of  all  that  they  think  and  do, — 
a  witness  for  or  against  us  on  the  Great  Day  of 
Account  for  which,  as  we  are  told,  our  bodies  will  be 
raised. 

If  we  examine  a  portion  of  the  earth's  crust,  we  find 
legibly  imprinted  there  marks  of  changes  that  have 
taken  place  in  it,  perhaps  myriads  of  ages  ago.  At  one 
time  perhaps  it  was  under  the  sea ;  at  another  it  formed 
the  bottom  of  a  fresh-water  lake  ;  upheavals  took  place, 
and  we  can  note  the  periods  of  them ;  glaciers  passed 
over  it,  and  we  observe  their  scratches.  At  one  time  it 


1 "  Every  human  movement,  every  organic  act,  every  volition, 
passion,  or  emotion,  every  intellectual  process,  is  accompanied  with 
atomic  disturbance." — G.  P.  Marsh.  "The  soul  never  does  one 
.single  action  by  itself  apart  from  some  excitement  of  bodily  tissue.'1 
— /.  A.  Picton.  "  We  can  no  more  realise  mind  as  acting  apart  from 
matter  than  we  can  realise  the  force  of  gravity  or  of  chemical  affinity 
as  acting  apart  from  matter." — Dr.  Laycock, 


58  MEMORY. 

may  have  been  covered  with  a  tropical  vegetation ;  at 
another  it  may  have  experienced  the  rigours  of  an  Arctic 
climate.1  An  animal  of  a  species  long  since  extinct  once 
went  to  slake  its  thirst  at  a  river,  and  we  clearly  see  its 
footprints  in  what  was  then  soft  clay  or  mud,  but  is  now 
hard  rock.  So,  too,  in  the  rocks  we  find  the  marks  of 
rain-drops  and  water-ripples  originally  formed  in  the 
soft  sand.  An  animal  died,  a  tree  fell,  a  leaf  dropped, 
thousands  of  ages  ago,  and  to-day  we  can  trace  their 
remains  with  the  greatest  minuteness.2 

The  hoary  tree  that  has  stood  for  centuries  by  the 
wayside  bears  in  its  structure  a  material  record  of  every 
year  of  its  existence.  Even  with  our  dull  and  limited 
senses,  we  can  there  read  something  of  its  past  history 
and  of  the  changes  it  has  undergone ;  but  may  we  not 
well  believe  that  to  Higher  Intelligences  there  may  be 
perceptible  traces  of  every  storm  it  experienced,  of  every 
blast  that  blew  on  it,  of  every  sun  that  shone  on  it,  of 
every  atmospheric  change  that  affected  it  ?  May  not 
the  vows  softly  whispered  under  its  branches,  and 

1  "  The  rolling  rock  leaves  its  scratches  on  the  mountain ;  the 
river  its  channel  in  the  soil ;  the  animal  its  hones  in  the  stratum  ; 
the  fern  and  leaf  their  modest  epitaph  in  the  coal.     The  falling  drop 
makes  its  sculpture  in  the  sand  or  stone.   .   .   .   The  ground  is  all 
memoranda  and  signatures,  and  every  object  covered  over  with  hints 
which  speak  to  the  intelligent.     In  nature  this  self-registration  is 
incessant." — R.  W.  Emerson. 

2  «  Myriads  or  millions  of  years  ago  the  tide  was  out  and  the  heach 
was  smooth  and  soi't  and  flat,  and  there  fell  a  shower  of  rain  and 
pitted  the  surface  in  a  particular  way.   .   .  .   Then  came  a  little 
salt-water  lizard,  or  a  crab  sidling  along,  or  a  frog  the  size  of  a  well- 
fed  pig,  leaping  and  waddling  by  turns  ;  and  on  the  micaceous  mud 
each  inscribed  the  whole  history  of  that  day's  proceedings ;  .  .   . 
and  there  it  remained  till  the  tide  gently  rose  and  with  fine  sand  or 
clay  filled  up  the  impressions.     And  now  that  the  whole  is  converted 
into  rock,  there  conies  some  exploring  Miller  or  Mantel  and  turns 
over  the  stony  leaves,  and  reads  the  record  as  plain  as  if  it  had  been 
printed  yesterday." — Dr.  James  Hamilton. 


MATTER  AND   MIND.  59 

• 

heard  by  no  human  ear  save  one,  be  found  there 
recorded  in  permanent  characters  ?l 

It  is  now  an  established  fact  that  the  sun's  rays 
cannot  fall  upon  any  object  without  producing  a  molecu- 
lar disturbance  or  chemical  change — a  change  which  is 
permanent,  and  may  even  be  made  visible  by  resorting 
to  proper  means.  All  photographic  pictures  are  of 
this  kind.  But  not  only  prepared  surfaces,  but  the 
surfaces  of  all  material  things  are  constantly  under- 
going a  mysterious  change  while  under  the  influence  of 
sunshine.  Lay  a  key  upon  a  sheet  of  white  paper 
exposed  to  the  sun's  rays,  then  place  the  paper  in  a 
dark  drawer,  and  the  spectral  image  of  the  key  will 
still  be  visible  after  the  lapse  of  years.  "  If,"  says  Dr, 
Draper,  "  on  such  inorganic  surfaces  impressions  may  in 
this  way  be  preserved,  how  much  more  likely  is  it  that 
the  same  thing  occurs  in  the  purposely  constituted 
ganglion." 

Owing  to  the  changes  that  are  constantly  taking 

1  "  No  atom  can  be  disturbed  in  place  or  undergo  any  change  of 
temperature,  of  electrical  state,  or  other  material  condition,  without 
affecting,  by  attraction  or  repulsion,  or  other  communication,  the 
surrounding  atoms.  These,  again,  by  the  same  laws  transmit  the 
influence  to  other  atoms,  and  the  impulse  thus  given  extends  through 
the  whole  material  universe."  Hence  "  there  exists,  not  alone  in  the 
human  conscience  or  in  the  omniscience  of  the  Creator,  but  in 
external  material  nature,  an  ineffaceable,  imperishable  record,  possibly 
legible  to  even  created  intelligence,  of  every  act  done,  every  word 
uttered,  nay,  of  every  wish  and  purpose  and  thought  conceived  by 
mortal  man  from  the  birth  of  our  first  parents  to  the  final  extinction 
of  our  race ". — G.  P.  Marsh.  "  The  air  itself  is  one  vast  library,  on 
whose  pages  are  for  ever,  written  all  that  man  has  ever  said  or  woman 
whispered.  There  in  their  mutable  but  unerring  characters  .  .  . 
stand  for  ever  recorded  vows  unredeemed,  promises  unfulfilled  ;  per- 
petuating, in  the  united  movements  of  each  par  tide,  the  testimony  of 
man's  changeful  will.  .  .  .  Whilst  the  atmosphere  we  breathe 
is  the  ever-living  witness  of  the  sentiments  we  have  uttered,  the 
waters  and  the  more  solid  materials  of  the  globe  bear  equally  endur- 
ing testimony  of  the  acts  we  have  committed." — C.  Babbage. 


60  MEMORY. 

place  in  our  bodies  as  well  as  in  living  organic  matter 
generally,  the  traces  or  marks  of  impressions  once 
received  would  soon  disappear  but  for  the  fact  that  the 
existing  particles  impart  their  form  and  character  to 
those  that  come  after  them.1  A  cut  finger  retains  the 
marks  of  the  injury  it  has  sustained  -long  after  the 
wound  itself  is  healed.  The  same  cells  do  not  remain, 
but  are  constantly  being  carried  away  and  their  places 
supplied  by  others ;  but  the  injured  cells  retain  and 
transmit  to  their  successors  the  form  and  character 
impressed  upon  them  by  the  injury,  and  so  in  genera- 
tion after  generation  of  cells  the  memory  of  the  injury 
once  sustained  is  kept  up.2 

Every  part  of  the  body,  every  cell  and  every  fibre, 
has  a  life  of  its  own  as  well  as  contributing  to  the  life 
of  the  individual.3  Each  lives,  produces  after  its  kind, 

1  "  It  is  asked  how  can  the  brain  be  the  organ  of  memory  when 
you  suppose  its  substance  to  be  ever-changing?  .  .  .  The  answer 
is  because  of  the  exactness  of  assimilation  accomplished  in  the  for- 
mative processes :  the  effect  once  produced  by  an  impression  upon 
the  brain,  whether  in  perception  or  in  intellectual  act,  is  fixed  and 
there  retained,  because  the  part,  be  it  what  it  may,  which  has  been 
thereby  changed,  is  exactly  represented  in  the  part  which  in  the 
course  of  nutrition  succeeds  to  it." — Sir  James  Paget. 

2  "  The  formative  process  exactly  assimilates  the  new  materials  to 
the  old.  .  .  .  The  new  formed  blood  and  tissues  take  the  like- 
ness of  the  old  ones  in  all  their  peculiarities,  whether  normal  or 
abnormal."    Thus  "after  any  injury  or  disease  by  which  the  struc- 
ture of  a  part  is  impaired,  we  find  the  altered  structure,  whether  an 
induration,  a  cicatrix,   or  any  other,  as  it  were,  perpetuated   by 
assimilation.      It  is  not  that  an  unhealthy  process  continues :   the 
result  is  due  to  the  process  of  exact  assimilation  operating  in  a  part 
of  which  the  structure  has  been  changed.     The  same  process  which 
once  preserved  the  healthy  state  maintains  now  the  diseased  one." — 
Sir  James  Paget. 

3  "  There  is  ...  a  life  of  the  parts  and  a  life  of  the  whole  or- 
ganism; each  microscopic  cell  has  its  independent  existence,  runa 
its  own  career  from  birth  to  death  ;  and  the  sum  total  of  such  lives 
form  what  we  call  the  life  of  the  animal.     The  unity  is  the  aggregate 
of  forces,  not  one  presiding  force." — G.  H.  Lewes.    "  Every  cell  in  the 


MATTEE  AND   MIND.  61 

and  dies.  Its  successors  live,  produce  after  their  kind, 
and  die ;  and  so  with  others.  At  first,  during  infancy 
and  childhood,  each  succeeding  issue  becomes  stronger 
and  more  vigorous  than  the  preceding ;  but  after  a  time, 
in  maturity,  they  become  stationary,  and  eventually 
degenerate  and  die  out.  They  are  likewise  subject  to 
disease  and  to  premature  decay. 

In  the  hereditary  transmission  of  qualities  we  seem 
to  have  a  remarkable  parallelism  to  what  is  thus  con- 
stantly taking  place  in  our  bodies.  The  individual  cell 
imparts  its  form  and  character  to  that  which  takes  its 
place,  and  the  parents  impress  their  physical  and 
mental  qualities  upon  their  offspring.  That  mental 
qualities  are  transmitted  from  parents  to  children  is 
evidently  owing  to  the  brain,  the  physical  organ  of 
the  mind  having,  like  the  other  parts  of  the  body,  a 
transmitted  nature.1  Thus  we  find  properties  or  quali- 
ties which  have  been  acquired  by  the  parents,  and  been, 
as  we  believe,  imprinted  in  their  physical  structure, 
appearing  as  innate  qualities  in  their  offspring.2  In 

organism  is  independent.  It  is  born,  it  grows,  it  produces,  it  dies,  as 
if  it  were  a  single  celled  plant  or  animaL  .  .  .  Just  as  the  life  of 
a  nation  or  a  tree  is  the  sum  total  of  the  lives  of  all  its  individual 
parts,  so  is  the  life  of  an  organism  the  sum  total  of  the  lives  of  its 
individual  cells." — Ditto. 

1  "  Hereditary  transmission,  displayed  alike  in  all  the  plants  we 
cultivate,  in  all  the  animals  we  breed,  and  in  the  human  race,  applies 
not  only  to  physical  but  to  psychical  peculiarities." — H.  Spencer. 
"  Whenever  the  transmission  of  insanity  occurs,  we  are  bound  by  all 
analogy  to  infer  the  presence  of  a  morbid,  material  cause  upon  which 
the  phenomena  primarily  depend." — Sir  H.  Holland.   "The  health  of 
the  mind  ...  is  subject  to  the  same  laws  as  is  the  health  of  the  body. 
For  the  brain,  the  organ  of  the  mind,  grows  and  is  maintained  ac- 
cording to  the  same  method  of  nutrition  as  every  other  part  of 
the  body ;  it  is  supplied  by  the  same  blood,  and  through  the  blood, 
like  every  other  part,  may  be  affected  for  good  or  ill  by  the  various 
physical  influences  to  which  it  is  exposed." — Sir  J.  Paget. 

2  "  The  greater  exactness  of  modern  observation  is  ever  placing 
before  us  new  and  wonderful  instances  in  which  the  most  minute 


62  MEMOET. 

other  words,  we  find  marks  or  traces  of  deeds  done  by 
the  parents  appearing  in  the  children,  and  manifesting 
themselves  as  unconscious  hereditary  memory.1  Nor 
is  this  confined  to  parents,  but  may  extend  to  more 
remote  ancestors. 

May  not  the  descendants  of  one  common  stock  be 
regarded  as  parts  of  one  great  organism,  linked  together 
by  bonds  of  relationship  closer  and  more  intimate  than 
is  commonly  supposed?2  Only  on  this  principle  are 
many  of  the  phenomena  to  be  observed  in  the  physical 
and  moral  worlds  to  be  explained;  and  it  shows  a 
paramount  duty  devolving  upon  parents  of  having  a 

peculiarities  or  defects  in  structure  and  function  are  transmitted 
from  one  generation  to  another." — Sir  H.  Holland.  "  Acquired  habits 
in  several  successive  generations  become  permanent  and  assume  the 
character  in  instincts.  .  .  .  We  must  suppose  that  the  conversion 
of  an  acquired  habit  into  an  instinct  is  attended  with  some  actual 
change  in  the  organisation  of  the  brain." — Sir  B.  Brodie. 

14<The  true  type  of  organic  memory  .  .  .  must  be  sought  in 
the  group  of  facts,  to  which  Hartley  has  given  the  appropriate  title 
of  secondary  automatic  actions,  as  opposed  to  those  automatic  func- 
tions which  are  primitive  or  innate,"  W  may  go  lower :  "  the 
exercise  of  each  of  our  faculties  (sight,  toucu,  locomotion)  implies  a 
completely  organic  memory".  "Can  we  go  farther?  We  can.  Below 
the  compound  reflex  impressions  representing  organic  memory  at  its 
lowest  term,  there  are  simple  reflex  impressions.  These  resulting 
from  innate  anatomical  conditions,  have  been  acquired  and  fixed  by 
long  continued  experience  in  the  evolution  of  species.  We  thus  pass 
from  individual  to  hereditary  memory  which  is  a  specific  memory." 
— Th.  Ribot. 

2  "  The  offspring  is  termed  a  new  animal,  but  is  in  truth  a  branch 
or  elongation  of  the  parent,  since  a  part  of  the  embryo  animal  is  or 
was  a  part  of  the  parent,  and  therefore  in  strict  language  cannot  be 
said  to  be  entirely  new  at  the  time  of  its  production,  and  therefore  it 
may  retain  some  of  the  habits  of  the  parent  system." — Dr.  E.  Darwin. 
"  Every  organism  imparts  to  the  germ  that  issues  from  it  a  small 
heritage  of  acquisitions  which  it  has  added  during  its  own  lifetime  to 
the  gross  inheritance  of  its  race." — Dr.  E.  Hering.  "The  successive 
lineal  descendants  of  any  one  kind  of  organism  may  in  effect  be 
regarded  as  portions  of  the  same  organism  gradually  developing 
through  successive  generations  or  stages  of  one  life  history." — Dr, 
Bottom. 


MATTER  AND  MIND.  68 

constant  regard  in  their  conduct,  to  the  effects  it  may 
have  on  the  characters  of  their  children.1  (See  Edu- 
cation and  Educators,  Chapter  IV.,  "  The  Hereditary 
Effects  of  Education".) 

1  "  Taking  this  comprehensive  view  of  the  organic  unity  of  suc- 
cessive generations  of  men  ...  it  shows  the  past  descending  on 
the  present,  the  present  on  the  future,  by  an  inevitable  law,  and  yet 
gives  every  parent  the  hope  of  mitigating  the  sad  legacy  of  mischief 
he  entails  upon  his  children  by  whatever  improvements  of  character 
and  conduct  he  is  able  to  make."— Dr.  H.  BushndL 


OHAPTEE  IIL 

THE   BODY. 

14  Die  Mittel  wodurch  die  Seele  .  .  .  mit  der  aeussern  gegenstandlichen  Wejt  in 
Verbindung  tritt,  ist  eigentlich  der  ganze  Leib,  durch  den  und  dessen  Organe  sie 
Eindrucke  von  Aussen  empfangt  und  Bewegung  noch  Aussen  hervorbringt." — Dr.  J. 
Beck. 

The  mind  "  depends  for  the  manifestation  of  all  its  activities  upon  a  material 
organism". — J,  D.  Morell. 

"  It  appears  to  me  that  the  frame  of  the  body  ...  is  a  complex  organ,  I  shall 
not  say  of  sense,  but  which  ministers,  like  the  external  senses,  to  the  mind  ;  that  is 
to  say,  as  the  organs  to  the  five  senses  serve  to  furnish  ideas  of  matter,  the  frame- 
work of  the  body  contributes  in  certain  conditions  to  develop  various  states  of  the 
mind." — Sir  Charles  Bell. 

"  The  organ  of  the  mind  is  not  the  brain  by  itself :  it  is  the  brain,  nerves, 
muscles,  organs  of  sense,  viscera.  ...  It  is  uncertain  how  far  even  thought,  remi- 
niscence, or  the  emotions  of  the  past  and  absent  could  be  sustained  without  the 
more  distant  communications  between  the  brain  and  the  rest  of  the  body,— the 
organs  of  sense  and  movement."— Prof.  Bain. 

THE  body  is  that  part  of  man's  nature  which  brings 
him  into  connection  with  the  material  world.  It 
is  by  means  of  bodily  organs,  the  senses,  that  the  mind 
acquires  its  knowledge  of  the  world  around  it;  and  it  is 
through  its  various  organs  of  motion  that  it  acts  upon 
and  impresses  outward  nature,  and  communicates  its 
thoughts  and  feelings  to  others.1  In  addition  to  this, 

1  "  Sensation  and  volition  are  the  two  functions  by  means  of 
which  the  mental  principle  is  enabled  to  maintain  its  communication 
with  the  external  world.  It  is  under  the  influence  of  volition  that 
the  contraction  of  muscles  takes  place  for  locomotion,  speech,  the 
procuring  of  food,  and  other  purposes.  .  .  .  Here  there  is  an 
impulse  communicated  from  the  mind  to  the  brain,  from  thence  to 
the  nerves,  and  from  these  to  other  organs,  and  producing  a  marked 
change  in  the  condition  of  the  latter ;  and  a  priori  there  is  no  reason 
to  doubt  that  the  operation  of  a  similar  cause  may  produce  an  equal 
change,  though  of  another  kind  and  more  permanent,  in  the  minute 
structure  of  the  brain  itself." — Sir  B.  Brodie. 


THE   BODY.  65 

all  the  mind's  operations  are  carried  on  through  a 
material  organ,  the  brain,  which  is  subject  to  the  same 
laws  and  conditions  as  the  other  parts  of  the  body. 
Such  is  the  close  and  intimate  connection  which  sub- 
sists between  mind  and  body  in  man,  that  no  thought 
passes  through  the  mind  without  a  corresponding  bodily 
movement,  on  which  it  depends  for  its  manifestation  in 
consciousness.1  Hence  we  are  of  opinion  that  more 
light  is  to  be  obtained  respecting  the  mental  phenomena 
from  the  study  of  the  physical  constitution  than  in  any 
other  way.2 

There  are  few  writers  on  Memory  who  do  not  admit 
that  it  is  the  faculty  of  the  mind  that  is  most  depen- 
dent on  physical  conditions.8  The  almost  universally- 


1 "  Mind  can  only  manifest  itself  in  existence  as  it  acts  upon 
matter ;  without  matter  there  can  be  no  manifestation  of  mind." — 
Dr.  Laycock. 

2  "  I  am  persuaded  that  the  only  possible  route  to  truth  in  mental 
philosophy  is  through  a  study  of  the  nervous  mechanism.  .  .  .  The 
advancement  of  metaphysics  is  through  the  study  of  physiology." — 
Dr.  Draper :  Human  Physiology.  "  The  mind  is  so  intimately  depen- 
dent upon  the  condition  and  relation  of  the  organs  of  the  body,  that 
if  any  means  can  ever  be  found  to  render  men  wiser  and  more 
ingenious  than  hitherto,  I  believe  that  it  is  in  medicine  they  m  ast  be 
Bought  for." — Descartes.  "  Physical  decline  and  moral  depravity  are 
intimately  connected,  and  those  laws  which  are  requisite  for  the 
preservation  of  health  serve  also  to  preserve  and  improve  the  morals. 
...  In  a  word,  our  moral  health  and  energy  are  commonly  the 
result  of  our  physical  health  and  strength  ;  and  our  moral  failings  are 
often  nothing  more  than  consequences  of  our  bodily  defects.  Good 
actions  alone  render  men  truly  moral  and  virtuous.  This  requires 
power  of  action,  and  for  this  the  body  must  be  strong  and  active." — 
Sir  B.  Brodie.  "  The  cause  of  morality — of  everything  that  is  con- 
nected with  the  onward  movement  of  the  race — is  more  dependent 
upon  the  bodily  health,  upon  the  organic  soundness  of  the  human  con- 
stitution, than  many  politicians,  moralists,  and  divines  seem  ready  to 
believe." — Dr.  John  Brown. 

8  "  Of  all  the  intellectual  powers,  it  (memory)  depends  most  on 
the  organised  structure  for  whatever  concerns  its  completeness,  iti 
changes,  and  decay." — Sir  H.  Holland. 


66  MEMORY. 

received  opinion,  however,  is  that  it  depends  upon 
traces  left  in  the  brain ;  while  we,  on  the  other  hand, 
hold  that  the  traces  are  not  confined  to  the  brain,  nor 
even  to  the  nervous  system,  but  extend  to  those  other 
parts  of  the  body  that  were  concerned  in  the  original 
impression.  Every  act  we  do,  every  sensation  we 
experience,  every  thought  that  passes  through  the 
mind,  causes  some  disturbance,  produces  some  change, 
in  the  minute  particles  of  the  organs  through  which 
they  pass.1  Thus,  when  we  bring  into  action  any 
particular  part  or  organ  of  the  body,  we  produce  a 
certain  change,  introduce  a  certain  bias  am'  ng  its 
particles,  so  that  they  become  more  disposed  to  act  in 
the  same  way  a  second  time,  and  more  and  w  ^  -Tith 
each  repetition.2  Thus  what  was  at  first  accompiib. . 

i 

1  "  Every  sensory  impression,  no  matter  whether  discrinv  -  *^ 
not,  affects  the  circulation  and  develops  heat.  The  blood  ^,eA.  oi 
the  part  impressed  expand,  vessels  elsewhere  contract ;  a  change  in 
the  blood  pressure  has  been  effected,  which  of  course  implies  that  the 
whole  organism  has  been  affected.  Delicate  instruments  show  that 
at  the  time  a  sensation  is  produced,  the  temperature  of  the  brain  is 
raised.  The  same  is  true  of  ideation." — G.  H.  Lewes.  "An  emo- 
tion, besides  the  obvious  changes  it  works  in  the  muscles  of  the 
face,  habitually  works  changes,  external  and  internal,  throughout 
the  body  at  large.  The  respiration,  the  circulation,  the  digestion,  as 
well  as  the  attitudes  and  movements,  are  influenced  by  it  even 
when  moderate  ;  and  everyone  knows  how  strong  passions,  pleasur- 
able or  painful,  profoundly  disturb  the  whole  system." — Herbert 
Spencer.  "  Lavater  has  observed,  and  perhaps  justly,  that  there 
is  no  muscle  or  even  bone  of  the  human  body  that  does  not  in 
Borne  degree  or  other  sympathise  in  the  prevailing  passion  of  the 
mind,  and  bear  evident  marks  of  having  been  operated  upon  by 
its  influence  ;  while  as  the  bones  and  muscles  of  the  face  are  nearest 
the  scene  of  action,  and  most  obvious  to  the  view  of  the  spectator,  the 
predominant  disposition  may  be  more  easily  studied  and  calculated 
from  these  than  from  any  other." — Dr.  M.  Good. 

3  "  The  aptitude  which  is  acquired  by  practice  for  the  performance 
of  certain  actions  that  were  at  first  accomplished  with  difficulty,  seem 
to  result  as  much  from  a  structural  change  which  the  continual 
repetition  of  them  occasions  in  the  muscle,  as  in  the  habit  which  the 


THE  BODY.  67 

with  difficulty  becomes  by  degrees  more  and  more  easy, 
till  it  comes  to  be  almost  a  second  nature,  and  the 
difficulty  rather  is  to  refrain  from  doing  it  when  the 
circumstances  are  favourable.  The  practice  has  grown 
to  a  habit,  and  the  parts  concerned  have  grown  into 
correspondence  therewith.  Thus  each  organ  of  the 
body  bears  in  its  substance  the  marks  or  traces  of  how 
it  has  Been  accustomed  to  act.1 

When  we  recall  a  past  sensation  or  movement,  or  a 
thought  previously  entertained,  we  employ  the  same 
parts  and  in  the  same  way  as  they  were  employed  in 
the  original  act.  "When,  for  instance,  I  recall  an  act  I 
have  previously  done,  I  am  materially  assisted  in  doing 
so  by  t^e  state  of  the  muscles,  by  means  of  which 
the  act  .was  originally  executed ;  or  when  I  recall  an 
object  of'  sight,  I  refer,  not  to  the  brain  alone,  but  also 
to  th&." retina  on  which  the  object  was  previously 
depicted  Memory  thus  follows  exercise,  and  in  pro- 
nervous  system  acquires  of  exciting  the  movement." — Dr.  Carpenter. 
"  After  each  action  it  (a  muscle)  is  better  prepared  for  action,  more 
disposed  to  a  repetition  of  the  same  work,  and  readier  to  reproduce  a 
given  organic  process." — Th.  Ribot. 

1  "  The  tissues  and  organs  of  the  animal  body,  when  once  employed 
in  the  exercise  of  their  functions,  are  subject  to  continual  loss  of 
material,  which  is  restored  by  nutrition.  This  waste  or  consumption 
of  matter  with  which,  so  to  speak,  the  use  of  a  part  is  attended,  takes 
place  in  different  modes  and  degrees  in  different  structures.  .  .  . 
The  functional  action  of  muscle  is  attended  with  an  expenditure  of 
moving  force,  and  a  portion  of  matter,  derived  in  part  from  the  muscle 
itself,  is  consumed  in  the  production  of  that  force  ;  that  is,  it  under- 
goes a  chemical  change,  and  being  by  this  alteration  rendered  unfit 
to  serve  again,  is  removed  by  absorption.  The  amount  of  matter 
changed  in  a  given  time,  or,  in  other  words,  the  rapidity  of  the 
nutritive  process,  is  much  greater ,in  those  instances  where  there  is  a 
production  and  expenditure  of  force  than  where  the  tissue  serves 
merely  passive  mechanical  purposes.  Hence  the  bones,  tendons,  and 
ligaments  are  much  less  wasted  in  exhausting  diseases  than  the 
muscles,  or  than  the  fat  which  is  consumed  in  respiration  and  gene- 
rates heat." — Quain's  Anatomy. 


68  MEMORY. 

portion  as  we  exercise  and  train  any  part  do  we  improve 
and  strengthen  the  memory  of  that  part.  Thus  not 
the  brain  alone  but  the  whole  body  is  the  true  seat  of 
memory. 

In  attempting  to  illustrate  this  view  further,  it  is  not 
our  intention  to  enter  fully  or  minutely  into  the  ana- 
tomy and  physiology  of  the  human  body,  but  rather  to 
touch  upon  certain  points  in  these  sciences  that  are 
more  immediately  connected  with  our  present  subject. 

The  human  body  is  constantly  undergoing  change. 
Its  growth,  its  maintenance  in  health,  its  very  life,  all 
depend  upon  this.1  Its  several  parts  are  constantly 
giving  off  effete  particles,  and  are  as  constantly  taking 
up  fresh  materials  to  supply  their  place.  This  is  what 
is  constantly  going  on  at  all  times  in  the  living  body, 
but  more  especially  when  a  part  or  organ  is  in  a  state 
of  activity.  Then  the  waste  that  takes  place  in  the 
part  is  greater,  the  particles  die  off  and  are  carried 
away  more  rapidly,  and  in  consequence  the  assimilation 
of  fresh  materials  goes  on  with  greater  speed.2  In 

1  "  Unless  there  be  movement  there  is  no  life,  vital  or  psychical : 
immobility  is  death."—  G.  H.  Lewes.     "  The  condition  of  life  is  death. 
No  part  of  a  living  mechanism  can  act  without  wearing  away,  and 
for  the  continuance  of  its  functions  there  is  therefore  an  absolute 
necessity  for  repair.   .  .  .   The  essential  condition  of  life  is  waste  of 
the  body." — Dr.  Draper.    "Life  could  not  be  maintained  in  organs 
remaining  in  perfect  repose  ;  all  is  agitation,  all  is  movement  in 
organised  bodies." — Dr.  A.  M.  B.  Riofrey.     "  The  characteristics  of 
the  living  organism    are    ceaseless    change    and    ceaseless    waste. 
Directly  a  man  begins  to  live  he  begins  to  die." — Dr.  Tanner. 
"Leben  ist  Nichtsein  ist  Werden;  sein  ist  der  Todt." — Dr.  Erd- 
tnann. 

2  "  Our  material  frame  is  composed  of  innumerable  atoms,  and 
each  separate  and  individual  atom  has  its  birth,  life,  and  death,  and 
then  its  removal  from  the  place  of  the  living.     Thus  there  is  going 
on  a  continual  process  of  decay  and  death  among  the  individual 
atoms  which  make  up  each  tissue.   .  .  .   These  processes  are  greatly 
influenced  by  the  activity  of  the  bodily  functions.     Each  operation 
of  the  muscles  or  nerves  involves  the  disintegration  and  death  of  a 


THE   BODY.  69 

ordinary  circumstances  the  amount  of  waste  that  takes 
place  is  more  than  made  up  by  the  increased  supply  of 
new  matter,  and  in  consequence  the  part  gradually 
grows  in  size  and  strength.1  It  also  becomes  by 
degrees  better  adapted  for  carrying  on  the  same  kind  of 
actions,  for  no  doubt  the  supply  is  greatest  where  the 
greatest  waste  is  taking  place,  and  the  new  matter 
being  more  pliant  than  the  old,  is  more  readily  moulded 
and  fashioned  in  the  required  direction ;  for,  as  is  well 
known,  "  function  develops  structure  in  the  direction 
of  its  activity".2 

The  blood,  that  well-known  red  fluid  which  circulates 

certain  part  of  their  substance.  We  cannot  lift  a  finger,  we  cannot 
perform  the  slightest  movement,  without  causing  a  change  in  certain 
of  the  atoms  which  compose  the  muscles  executing  the  movement, 
in  those  of  the  nerve  conveying  the  stimulus  which  directed  them  to 
contract,  and  in  those  composing  the  nerve  centres  in  which  the 
stimulus  originates ;  and  this  change  involves  their  decay  and  death.7' 
— A.  Maclaren.  "  Tiedemann  remarks  that  an  organ  in  an  excited 
state  undergoes  more  rapid  changes  in  its  material  composition,  and 
therefore  attracts  more  quickly  and  in  larger  quantity  the  blood, 
which  alone  is  able  to  render  an  organ  capable  of  increased  vital 
action." — Dr.  J.  Muller. 

1  "  The  frequently-renewed  exercise  of  muscles,  by  producing  a 
determination  of  blood  towards  them,  occasions  an  increase  in  their 
nutrition  ;  so  that  a  larger  amount  of  new  tissue  becomes  developed, 
and  the  muscles  are  increased  in  size  and  vigour.    This  is  true  not 
only  of  the  whole  muscular  system  when  equally  exercised,  but  also 
of  any  particular  set  of  muscles  which  is  more  used  than  another." — 
Dr.  Carpenter. 

2  "  From  what  general  law  of  the  redistribution  of  matter  and 
motion  does  it  result  that  when  a  wave  of  molecular  transformation 
passes  through  a  nervous  structure  there  is  wrought  in  the  structure 
a  modification  such  that,  other  things  equal,  a  subsequent  like  wave 
passes  through  this  structure  with  greater  facility  than  its  prede- 
cessor ?  " — H.  Spencer.    "  Every  kind  of  activity  peculiar  to  a  living 
body  involves  a  change  of  structure,  and  the  formation  of  the  newly 
generated  tissue  receives  such  an  influence  from  the  conditions  under 
which  it  originates  that  all  its  subsequent  activity  displays  their 
impress." — Dr.  Carpenter.    "The  effect  of  practice  shows  that  the 
more  frequently  the  same  fibres  are  thrown  into  action,  the  easier 
does  their  action  become." — Dr.  J.  Muller. 

7 


70  MEMORY. 

through  all  parts  of  the  system,  is  the  means  by  which 
nourishment  is  conveyed  to  the  different  parts,  and  also 
the  wasted  particles  that  are  no  longer  of  any  use  are 
carried  away.1  "  The  life  of  the  body  is  the  blood." 
It  is  this  which  carries  everywhere  in  unceasing  cur- 
rents the  vivifying  stimulation  by  means  of  which  all 
our  bodily  activities  are  carried  on.  So  much  depends 
upon  it  that  if,  in  the  brain,  its  circulation  be  but 
momentarily  suspended,  the  whole  vital  machinery  is 
at  once  brought  to  a  stop.2 

The  blood  may  be  said  to  be  the  different  constituents 
of  the  several  parts  of  the  body — nerve,  muscle,  bone, 
&c. — in  a  fluid  state.  It  is  composed  of  water  holding 
in  solution  fibrin,  albumen,  potassium,  and  sodium, 
together  with  phosphoric  acid  and  other  substances, 
and  having  immersed  in  it  numerous  corpuscles  or 
globules  of  a  red  or  white  appearance,  the  former  being 
much  more  numerous  than  the  latter,  and  imparting  to 
it  its  red  colour.  The  average  quantity  of  blood  in 
an  adult  man  is  about  .28  Ibs.  or  pints. 

There  are  various  organs  for  diffusing,  renewing,  and 
cleansing  the  blood,  each  of  which  requires  to  be  in  an 
efficient  condition  in  order  to  the  blood  being  in  a 
proper  state.  The  organs  of  circulation  are  the  heart, 
arteries,  veins,  and  capillaries ;  the  organs  of  alimenta- 
tion, the  mouth,  gullet,  stomach,  and  intestines,  with 

1  "  The  blood  is  the  agent  which  not  only  supplies  both  food  and 
oxygen,  but  sweeps  away  all  refuse,  and,  we  may  add,  is  the  ,'nstru- 
ment  for  maintaining  an  adequate  temperature.  All  the  rest  of  fhe 
body  may  in  fact  be  looked  upon  as  busied  in  manufacturing  food  into 
blood,  in  keeping  up  the  oxygen  supply  of  the  blood,  in  .sifting  out 
from  the  blood  all  waste  material,  and  in  maintaining  the  blood  at  a 
uniform  heat."— Dr.  M.  Foster. 

8  "  If  the  circulation  through  the  brain  be  suspended  but  for  an 
instant,  insensibility  and  loss  of  voluntary  power  supervene  and  con- 
tinue until  it  is  restored." — Dr.  Carpenter. 


THE   BODY.  71 

their  appendages ;  and  the  excretory  organs,  the  skin, 
lungs,  and  kidneys. 

The  heart  is  the  organ  by  which  the  blood  is  pro- 
pelled to  all  parts  of  the  system.  The  arteries  receive 
the  blood  from  the  heart  and  conduct  it  to  the  different 
parts  of  the  body,  where  it  is  taken  up  by  minute  vessels, 
the  capillaries,  which  penetrate  the  different  tissues, 
and  through  the  thin  walls  of  which  the  materials 
transude  which  are  necessary  for  their  sustenance. 
Each  several  tissue  selects  from  the  blood  the  materials 
necessary  for  its  support,  and  the  blood  thus  deprived 
of  its  valuable  materials,  and  being,  besides,  polluted 
by  receiving  the  worn-out  particles  of  the  tissues,  passes 
into  the  veins,  by  which  it  is  conveyed  back  to  the 
heart.  The  blood  in  the  arteries  is  of  a  florid  red 
colour,  but  when  it  reaches  the  veins  it  has  acquired  a 
dark  purple  hue.  From  the  heart  the  impure  blood  is 
propelled  to  the  lungs,  where  it  is  subjected  to  the 
action  of  the  air,  and  so  purified,  giving  off  carbonic 
acid  and  imbibing  oxygen.  The  purified  blood  is 
then  returned  to  the  heart,  by  which  it  is  again  pro- 
pelled to  all  parts  of  the  system.  The  oxygen  in 
the  blood  stimulates  the  action  of  the  tissues,  and 
seizes  upon  and  burns  up  the  effete  particles,  thus 
giving  rise  to  an  amount  of  heat  which  is  sufficient 
to  maintain  the  temperature  of  the  blood  at  about 
100  °.1 

Seeing,  then,  the  important  part  played  by  the  blood 
in  the  animal  economy,  it  will  naturally  be  expected  to 
have  an  important  influence  upon  the  memory.  This 

1 "  By  the  action  of  oxygen  every  tissue  is  being  differentiated, 
and  every  tissue  is  integrating  the  materials  supplied  by  the  blood. 
No  function  can  be  performed  without  the  differentiation  of  the 
tissue  performing  it,  and  no  tissue  is  enabled  to  perform  its  functions 
save  by  the  integration  of  nutriment" — H.  Spencer. 


72  MEMOBY, 

we  find  to  be  the  case;1  for  when  the  quantity  or 
quality  of  the  blood  is  impaired,  when  the  body  is  feeble 
or  exhausted,  the  power  of  memory  is  at  a  low  ebb. 
"  In  a  general  way,"  says  M.  Eibot,  "  reproduction  oi 
impressions  seems  to  depend  upon  the  circulation.  .  .  . 
Exaltation  of  the  memory  ensues  when  the  circulation 
is  increased  by  stimulants,  such  as  hachish,  opium,  &c. 
.  .  .  Other  therapeutic  agents  induce  a  contrary 
effect."  "  Feelings  excited  when  the  general  circula- 
tion is  very  vigorous  are  more  revivable  than  usual. 
.  .  .  Fatigue  in  any  form  is  fatal  to  memory;  the 
received  impressions  are  not  fixed ;  reproduction  is 
slow,  often  impossible." — Herbert  Spencer.  "  I  have 
often,"  says  Sir  Henry  Holland,  "  known  the  power  thus 
transiently  failing  from  fatigue  or  debility  of  disease 
restored  by  the  stimulus  of  a  moderate  quantity  of  wine, 
and  so  suddenly  as  to  show  that  the  want  of  due  excite- 
ment to  the  circulation  was  the  cause  of  the  failure." 
He  further  mentions  that  once  when  visiting  some  deep 
mines  in  the  Hartz  mountains,  he  became  so  exhausted 
by  fatigue  that  every  German  word  and  phrase  deserted 
his  memory,  so  that  he  was  no  longer  able  to  converse 
with  the  German  inspector  who  accompanied  him,  till 
he  had  taken  some  food  and  wine,  and  had  some  rest, 
when  they  returned  to  him. 

It  is  probably  mainly  owing  to  a  temporarily  weak- 
ened state  of  the  circulation  or  an  impaired  condition 
of  the  blood  that  we  fail  to  remember  at  one  time  what 
we  can  readily  recall  at  another.  Sometimes  in  trying 
to  remember  a  thing,  the  very  thing  itself  may  come 

1  "  The  receptivity  of  impressions  is  high  during  those  portions  of 
life  in  which  the  blood  is  propelled  in  full  and  rapid  currents." — 
H.  Spencer.  "  A  normal  exercise  of  the  memory  supposes  an  active 
tirculation  and  blood  rich  in  the  materials  necessary  for  integration 
and  disintegration," — Th.  Eibot. 


THE   BODY.  73 

into  the  mind,  and  we  may  fail  to  recognise  it  as  that 
we  are  in  search  of,  while  afterwards,  when  we  again 
recall  it,  we  at  once  perceive  it  to  be  what  we  sought. 

It  would  also  seem  that  in  those  remarkable  cases 
where  the  memory  is,  through  disease  or  accident,  par- 
tially lost  and  afterwards  suddenly  restored,  the  cause 
is  to  be  attributed  to  the  circulation.  Thus  a  gentle- 
man on  recovering  from  a  fever  finds  that  he  has 
entirely  forgotten  a  language  with  which  he  was  pre- 
viously familiar.  He  commences  the  study  of  it  again, 
and  has  made  some  progress  in  the  rudiments,  when 
suddenly,  while  endeavouring  to  construe  a  difficult 
passage,  "he,"  we  are  told,  " is  conscious  of  a  physical 
change  taking  place  in  his  brain,"  and  all  at  once  the 
whole  of  his  forgotten  knowledge  comes  back  to  him. 
It  would  seem  that  from  some  cause  or  other  the  neces- 
sary supply  of  blood  to  the  part  of  the  brain  directly 
concerned  had  been  withheld,  and  is  then  suddenly  re- 
stored; "for,"  says  Dr.  Carpenter,  "it  is  generally  found 
that  such  restoration  takes  place  under  emotional  excite- 
ment, which  has  a  peculiar  power  over  the  vaso-motor 
system  of  nerves  regulating  the  calibre  of  the  arteries".1 

When  we  come  to  consider  the  effects  of  the  circu- 
lation on  the  two  parts  of  memory — retention  and 
reproduction — we  think  we  discern  a  marked  difference 
between  them.2  An  increased  circulation  seems  to  act 

1  "  Some  physiologists  have  advanced  the  theory  that  limited  and 
temporary  lapses  of  the  memory  are  due  to  local  and  transient  modi- 
fications in  the  calibre  of  the  arteries  under  the  influence  of  the 
vaso-motor  nerves.    The  reason  for  this  view  is  that  the  return  of 
mental  power  is  sudden,  and  is  ordinarily  induced  by  strong  emo- 
tion, and  that  the  emotions  exercise  a  particular  sway  over  the  vaso- 
motor  system." — Th.  Ribot. 

2  "  Memory  consists  of  a  conservation  and  a  reproduction.     Conser- 
vation seems  to  depend  especially  upon  nutrition ;  reproduction  upon 
general  or  local  circulation." — Th.  Ribot. 


74  MEMORY. 

more  particularly  upon  the  reproductive  faculty, — past 
ideas  and  sensations  being  then  brought  up  before 
consciousness  with  the  greatest  rapidity  and  clearness.1 
Hence,  under  the  stimulating  effects  of  wine  or  opium, 
and  the  like,  ideas  spring  up  in  the  mind  with  the 
greatest  profusion.  But  the  effect  is  by  no  means  so 
marked  in  the  retentive  faculty,  for  the  rapidity  of  the 
circulation  seems  to  interfere  with  the  fixing  process, 
and  hence  it  is  that  we  usually  remember  less  of  what 
occurred  on  such  occasions  than  at  ordinary  times.2 
It  is  rather  the  slow,  full  pulse  that  is  most  favourable 
to  retention. 

Thus  memory  is  largely  dependent  upon  the  condition 
of  the  blood,  and  that  upon  the  general  health  of  the 
body,  and  hence  those  times  should  be  chosen  for  the 
exercise  of  the  memory  when  the  physical  powers  are 
strongest,  and  the  blood  in  consequence  in  its  best 
state.3 

The  great  bulk  of  the  body  is  made  up  of  motor 
organs  designed  for  the  carrying  out  of  the  purposes 

1  "  In  a  general  way  reproduction  of  impressions  seems  to  depend 
upon  the  circulation.  .  .  .  We  may  note  the  ease  and  rapidity  with 
which  reproduction  takes  place  at  that  period  of  life  when  the  blood 
is  driven  through  the  veins  in  plentiful  and  swift-moving  streams, 
and  how  slow  and  difficult  it  becomes  when  the  circulation  dimi- 
nishes with  advancing  years." — Th.  Ribot. 

2  "  A  drunkard  either  forgets  altogether  or  has  only  a  vague  recol- 
lection of  the  nonsense  which  he  talked  and  the  follies  of  which  he 
was  guilty  on  the  previous  day  while  under  the  influence  of  alcohol." 
— Sir  B.  Brodie.     "  Mr.  Combe  mentions  the  case  of  an  Irish  porter 
to  a  warehouse  who,  in  one  of  his  drunken  fits,  left  a  parcel  at  the 
wrong  house,  and  when  sober  could  not  recollect  what  he  had  done 
with  it ;  but  the  next  time  he  got  drunk  he  recollected  where  he  had 
left  it,  and  went  and  recovered  it." — Dr.  MlNish. 

3  "  It  is  not  enough  that  impressions  be  received ;  they  must  be 
fixed,  organically  registered,  conserved  ;  they  must  produce  perma- 
nent modifications  in  the  brain.  .  .  .  This  result  can  depend  only 
on  nutrition." — Th.  Eibot. 


THE   BODY.  76 

and  intentions  of  the  mind.  It  is  by  means  of  the 
bodily  organs  that  the  mind  reveals  itself,  and  makes 
known  to  others  what  is  passing  within  itself, — it  may  be 
by  speech,  by  pen,  or  by  gesture.1  The  loftiest  thoughts, 
the  highest  conceptions  of  the  human  mind,  would 
remain  unknown  and  useless  unless  they  thus  found 
expression.  The  genius  of  a  Shakespeare  or  a  Milton 
would  have  existed  in  vain  had  they  not  had  the  power 
of  conveying  to  others  what  existed  in  their  own  minds.2 
Indeed,  it  may  well  be  doubted  whether,  without  the 
power  of  expressing  our  thoughts,  even  thought  itself 
could  have  any  existence,  or  could  have  any  hold  on 
the  memory.3 

The  bones,  joints,  and  muscles  are  admirably  fitted 
for  the  performance  of  a  vast  variety  of  movements ; 
and  a  minute  and  intricate  system  of  nerves  connects 
the  different  parts  with  the  brain,  thus  bringing  them 
directly  and  readily  under  the  control  of  the  mind. 
Man  greatly  excels  all  other  animals  in  the  extent  and 
variety  of  his  movements,  and  to  this  cause,  doubtless, 
his  mental  superiority  is  in  no  small  degree  owing.4 

1  "  The  greater  part  of  the  animal  body  is  a  collection  of  muscular 
fibres  ;  some  serving  for  locomotion,  others  for  special  manoeuvres  of 
particular  members  and  parts,  others  as  an  assistance  to  the  senses, 
and  yet  others  for  the  production  of  voice,  and  in  man  of  speech." — 
Dr.  M.  Foster. 

2  "  Without  the  concurrence  of  the  muscular  power  man's  grandest 
conceptions  and  most  energetic  resolutions  would  remain  equally 
unknown  and  unfulfilled.  .  .  .  Mind  is  no  doubt  the  high  and 
directing  power ;  but  without  obedient  muscles,  ready  at  a  call  to 
minister  to  its  wants,  mind  would  remain  isolated  in  the  midst  of 
creation,  and  could  neither  speak,  nor  hear,  nor  touch."—  Dr.  A. 
Combe. 

3  "  Language  is  indispensable  not  merely  to  the  communication 
but  to  the  formation  of  thought,  since  it  favours  the  birth  of  concepts 
or  general  notions,  and  is  essential  both  for  their  preservation  and 
familiar  use." — Dr.  Bastian. 

4  "  The  superiority  of  the  human  over  tfce  animal  mind  seems  ft 


76  MEMOEY. 

The  bones  not  only  afford  support  and  protection  to 
the  soft  parts  of  the  body,  but  furnish  levers  and  points 
of  insertion  for  the  muscles,  and  also  form  the  joints. 
They  are  commonly  reckoned  at  206  in  the  adult,  and 
are  so  numerous,  doubtless,  in  order  to  admit  of  great 
variety  of  movement.  The  surfaces  of  the  bones  are 
hard  and  compact,  with  here  and  there  small  openings 
or  pores  leading  into  the  interior,  which  become 
gradually  more  and  more  spongy  and  open,  till  finally 
merging,  in  the  long  bones,  into  the  great  central  cavity 
in  which  the  marrow  is  lodged.  These  pores  or  open- 
ings serve  to  admit  of  bloodvessels  and  nerves  passing 
into  the  structure  of  the  bone.  Bones  are  largely 
supplied  with  bloodvessels,  and  a  constant  process  of 
waste  arid  renewal  is  carried  on  in  them,  as  in  other 
parts  of  the  body.  Hence  they  require  to  be  supplied 
with  nutritive  material  in  order  to  their  maintenance 
in  a  healthy  condition.  Though  furnished  with  nerves, 
bones  possess  little  sensibility  in  a  state  of  health,  but 
they  become  highly  sensitive  in  certain  forms  of  disease. 
They  are  covered  with  a  peculiar  membrane  called  the 
periosteum,  which  serves  to  lodge  and  conduct  the  blood- 
vessels and  nerves,  and  also  plays  an  important  part  in 
the  partial  reproduction  of  bone  when  injured. 

The  bones  increase  in  size  and  strength  in  proportion 
as  the  muscles  in  connection  with  them  increase  in 
power  and  are  called  into  frequent  action.  Hence,  next 
to  an  adequate  supply  of  proper  nourishment,  a  due 
amount  of  muscular  exercise  is  necessary  in  order  to 

be  essentially  connected  with  the  greater  variety  of  muscular  action 
of  which  man  is  capable." — Dr.  Maudsley.  Motion  "is  the  great 
characteristic  of  animal  life,  and  the  contrast  between  the  lowest  and 
the  highest  animals  is  in  nothing  more  marked  than  in  the  small 
self-mobility  of  the  one  and  the  great  self-mobility  of  the  other"*— 
H.  Spencer, 


THE   BODY.  77 

their  maintenance  in  a  healthy  condition.  Without 
this  they  lose  their  strength  and  firmness,  diminish  in 
size,  and  become  crooked  and  deformed.  If  the  muscles 
are  paralysed  the  bones  waste,  and  no  amount  of  passive 
motion  will  prevent  or  retard  the  atrophy.  Thus 
physical  exercise  not  only  develops  and  strengthens  the 
muscles,  but  it  has  a  similar  effect  upon  the  bones,  and 
hence  the  necessity  of  it  to  all,  particularly  the  young. 
Without  this  the  growth  is  stunted,  the  health  impaired, 
and  the  limbs  weak,  crooked,  or  deformed.  Further, 
whatever  weakens  or  injuriously  affects  other  parts  of 
the  system  acts  similarly  upon  the  bones,  as  living  in 
crowded  habitations,  deficiency  of  air  or  light,  unwhole- 
some food,  impaired  digestion,  &c.  The  bones  adapt 
themselves  to  the  softer  parts,  and  not  the  softer  parts 
to  them.  Thus  the  skull  enlarges  in  proportion  as 
the  contained  brain  becomes  larger;  and  the  muscles 
impress  themselves  upon,  and  fashion  the  adjacent 
bones.1 

Seeing  that  the  bones  are  well  supplied  with  nerves, 
that  there  is  constant  change  going  on  in  them,  and 
that  they  are  improved  and  strengthened  by  exercise, 
it  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  they  must  possess  a  kind 
of  memory  in  conjunction  with  the  muscles,  in  concert 
with  which  they  act. 

The  joints  are  of  different  kinds,  to  meet  the  required 
forms  of  movement,  and  are  all  fashioned  on  the  most 
scientific  principles.  The  ends  of  the  bones,  which  are 

1  "  Just  as  in  their  natural  development  and  growth,  the  bones  of 
the  skull  are  formed  in  adaptation  to  the  brain  ...  so  in  disease 
they  submit  in  their  nutrition  to  adapt  themselves  to  their  more 
active  parts.  Thus  the  skull  enlarges  when  its  contents  do ;  and 
the  bones  of  the  limbs  strengthen  themselves  as  the  muscles  inserted 
on  them  become  stronger  and  more  active ;  and  they  do  this  in 
adaptation  to  the  force  of  the  muscles,  and  not  merely  because  of 
the  movements  they  are  subject  to." — Sir  James  Paget. 


78  MEMORY. 

brought  into  contact,  are  covered  with  cartilage  in  order 
to  admit  of  easy,  smooth,  and  gliding  motion  upon  one 
another  ;  and  the  several  parts  are  kept  in  their  places 
by  means  of  ligaments  of  great  strength  and  tenacity. 

The  muscles  are  the  means  by  which  the  different 
movements  of  the  body  are  performed.  They  consti- 
tute  the  flesh  of  the  body,  and  are  arranged  in  layers 
over  it  in  such  a  way  as  to  give  beauty  and  symmetry 
to  its  form,  as  well  as  being  admirably  adapted  for  the 
purposes  of  motion.  They  are  of  various  forms  and 
sizes,  being  on  the  trunk  generally  broad  and  flat,  and 
on  the  limbs  narrow  and  elongated.  For  the  most  part 
they  are  attached  by  both  their  extremities  to  the 
bones,  either  directly  or  indirectly,  by  means  of  white 
flexible  but  inelastic  cords,  called  tendons.  They 
mostly  consist  of  a  middle  fleshy  portion  named  the 
belly,  by  means  of  which  the  movements  are  carried 
on,  and  two  ends,  which  serve  for  attachment  to  the 
bones.  The  muscles  are  for  the  most  part  arranged  in 
pairs,  acting  antagonistic  to  each  other,  as  flexors  and 
extensors,  abductors  and  adductors,  supinators  and 
pronators;  -and  are  distinguished  by  names  suggested 
by  their  form,  position,  function,  &c.  There  are 
reckoned  upwards  of  500  distinct  muscles  in  the  human 
body,  and  yet  with  all  this  complicated  machinery  every- 
thing is  in  order,  everything  in  harmony. 

The  peculiar  property  of  muscular  tissue  is  its  con- 
tractility, or  the  power  it  posjesses  of  contracting  its 
substance  on  the  application  of  stimuli,  and  of  relaxing 
when  these  are  withdrawn.1  Contraction  is  effected  by 

1  "  It  is  in  virtue  of  the  contractility  possessed  by  the  muscles 
that  all  the  sensible  movements  of  the  higher  animals  are  performed ; 
the  skeleton  framework  ,  .  .  furnishing  a  system  of  levers  by  which 
the  contractile  power  of  the  muscles  may  be  advantageously  applied." 
— Dr.  Carpenter, 


THE   BODY.  79 

the  simultaneous  shortening  of  the  fibres  of  which  the 
muscle  is  composed  through  the  approximation  of  their 
constituent  particles,  so  that  it  becomes  shorter,  thicker, 
and  harder,  and  diminishes  slightly  in  volume.  The 
property  of  contractility  appears  to  be  inherent  in  the 
muscle,  and  not  to  be  derived  from  the  nervous  system, 
as  it  may  be  manifested  by  muscle  after  being  isolated 
from  nervous  influence.  The  contracted  state  of  the 
muscle  is  regarded  as  the  active  one.  The  muscles  are 
constantly  in  some  degree  of  contraction,  as  is  evident 
from  the  fact  that  when  the  action  of  certain  muscles 
is  impaired,  the  antagonistic  ones  always  draw  the 
part  towards  them,  as,  for  example,  when  the  muscles 
of  one  lateral  half  of  the  face  are  paralysed,  those  of  the 
other  half  draw  the  features  towards  that  side. 

Muscles  are  distinguished  as  voluntary  and  involun- 
tary,— according  as  they  act  under  the  control  of  the 
will,  or  independently  of  it.  The  voluntary  muscles  are 
those  which  are  employed  in  the  movements  of  animal 
life,  the  involuntary  those  which  are  concerned  in  carry- 
ing on  the  internal  operations  of  the  system.  The  two 
classes  of  muscles,  when  examined  microscopically,  are 
found  to  differ  in  structure  as  well  as  in  function. 
Both  are  composed  of  fibres,  but  the  fibres  of  the  volun- 
tary muscles  are  striped,  while  those  of  the  involuntary 
are  plain.  The  heart,  however,  is  an  exception  to  this 
being,  though  an  involuntary  muscle,  composed  ot 
striped  fibres. 

The  fibres  of  the  voluntary  muscles  averaged  about 
^oth  part  of  an  inch  in  width,  and  are  beautifully 
striped  or  marked  with  dark  lines  passing  transversely 
across  them,  while  others  of  a  lighter  colour  extend 
lengthwise.  Each  fibre  has  an  enveloping  sheath  or 
sarcolemma  of  extreme  tenuity,  and  the  contained  matter 


80  MEMORY. 

may  be  split  up  longitudinally  into  a  number  of  minute 
fibrils  or  transversely  into  discs  corresponding  with  the 
dark  lines  by  which  it  is  marked.  Thus,  the  fibrils  and 
the  discs  consist  of  the  same  parts— i.e. ,  of  small  cubical 
particles,  only,  in  the  one  case,  they  are  attached  length- 
wise, and  in  the  other  lie  side  by  side.  Each  fibre  is 
estimated  to  contain  600  or  700  fibrils. 

The  fibres  are  collected  into  small  fasciculi,  or  bundles, 
which  again  form  larger  ones,  and  these  others  still 
larger,  until,  in  the  largest  muscles,  there  may  be  thou- 
sands and  even  hundreds  of  thousands  of  them.  The 
fibres  run  parallel  with  each  other  in  the  fasciculi,  and 
the  fasciculi  extend  (with  few  exceptions)  continuously i 
from  one  terminal  tendon  to  the  other.  The  fibres, 
however,  are  of  limited  length, — not  usually  exceeding 
one  and  a  half  inch ;  and,  accordingly,  in  a  long  fasci- 
culus, a  fibre  does  not  reach  from  one  tendonous  attach- 
ment to  the  other,  but  ends  in  a  tapering  pointed  extre- 
mity invested  with  its  sarcolemma,  and  cohering  with 
neighbouring  fibres.  .  Each  muscle  is  enveloped  in  a 
covering  of  areolar  tissue,  by  which  it  is  at  the  same 
time  connected  with  and  isolated  from  the  neighbour- 
ing parts,  and  which  also  passes  inward,  similarly  en- 
sheathing  the  smaller  bundles  of  fibres  of  which  each 
is  composed,  and  affording  support  to  the  bloodvessels 
and  nerves.  The  number  of  voluntary  muscles  to 
which  distinct  names  have  been  given  amounts  to  about 
240,  of  which  75  are  in  the  head  and  neck,  51  in  the 
vertebral  column  and  trunk,  58  in  the  upper  limb,  and 
59  in  the  lower  limb. 

The  fibres  of  the  involuntary  muscles  are  pale,  soft, 
smooth,  roundish,  or  slightly  flattened,  and  generally 
from  ^rVffth  to  FiV^h  of  an  inch  in  diameter.  They 
are  collected  into  fasciculi,  which  form  the  muscles. 


THE   BODY.  81 

These  constitute  the  proper  contractile  coats  of  the 
stomach,  intestines,  bladder,  arteries,  &c. 

Muscular  tissue  is  abundantly  supplied  with  blood- 
vessels and  nerves.  "  The  arteries,  accompanied  by 
their  associate  veins,  enter  the  muscle  at  various  points 
and  divide  into  branches  ;  these  pass  among  the  fasci- 
culi, crossing  over  them,  and  dividing  more  and  more 
as  they  get  between  the  finer  divisions  of  the  muscle ; 
at  length,  penetrating  the  smallest  fasciculi,  they  end 
in  capillary  vessels  which  run  between  the  fibres." 
These  "  form  among  the  fibres  a  fine  network  with 
narrow  oblong  meshes,  which  are  stretched  out  in  the 
direction  of  the  fibres". — Quairis  Anatomy.  None  of  the 
capillaries  enter  the  sarcolemma  of  the  fibre,  and  hence 
the  nutritious  fluid  which  they  convey  must  be  taken 
up  by  imbibition. 

The  nerves,  like  the  bloodvessels,  enter  the  substance 
of  the  muscles,  and  pass  between  the  different  bundles 
of  fibres  down  to  the  smallest.  In  their  course  they 
frequently  divide  and  subdivide,  and  form  numerous 
plexuses,  the  branches  growing  finer  and  the  meshes 
closer  as  they  advance  into  the  tissues — single  fibres  of 
nerves  finally  passing  off  to  the  individual  muscular 
fibres.  The  mode  of  termination  of  the  nerves  in  the 
muscles  is  by  no  means  certain.1  According  to  some 
they  do  not  penetrate  the  sarcolemma,  but  ramify 
over  it  in  branches  of  extreme  tenuity.  Others  main- 
tain that  they  end  in  nerve-plates  or  discs,  which  are 
described  as  "  small  lamelliform  objects  of  an  oval  or 
irregular,  and  often  deeply  indented,  outline,"  and  as 


1  "The  controversy  respecting  the  manner  in  which  nerves  end  in 
muscles  seems  likely  to  terminate  in  the  conclusion  that  they  do  not 
end  at  all,  but  pass,  by  continuity  of  substance,  into  the  sarcous 
elements."— Dr.  Maudsley. 


82  MEMORY. 

varying  in  size  from  Ti^th  to  lr^th  of  an  inch  in 
diameter,  according  to  the  size  of  the  muscular  fibre,  of 
whose  circumference  tne  plate  may  embrace  one-third 
or  more.  Some  believe  that  these  plates  are  situated 
on  the  outside,  others  within,  the  sarcolemma.1 

The  nerves  serve  to  convey  from  the  nerve  centres  to 
the  muscles  the  stimulus  by  which  they  are  set  in  mo- 
tion, and  also  to  carry  back  to  the  centres  information 
respecting  the  state  or  condition  of  the  muscles.  The 
nerves  connected  with  the  muscles  are  principally  motor 
nerves,  and  there  is  reason  to  believe  that  the  sensibility 
accompanying  muscular  movement  is  owing  to  them, 
and  not,  as  in  other  parts  of  the  body,  to  sensory  nerves. 
—(See  Chapter  IV.) 

The  amount  of  common  sensibility  residing  in  a 
muscle  is  not  great  at  least  in  its  healthy  state,  for 
it  may  be  cut  or  pricked  without  giving  rise  to  severe 
pain.  But  it  possesses  in  a  high  degree  a  peculiar  sen- 
sibility to  its  own  states  and  conditions  when  in  action, 
so  that  the  mind  is  able  to  determine  with  accuracy  the 
amount  of  effort  that  is  necessary  to  be  put  forth  on 
any  given  occasion.  It  is  by  means  of  this  sensibility, 
which  not  only  reveals  the  present  but  recalls  past  mus- 
cular states,  that  every  exertion  is  directed  and  appor- 
tioned in  intensity  to  the  effort  required  to  be  made ; 
and  the  degree  of  perfection  to  which  this  sensibility 
may  be  brought  by  training  and  habit  is  seen  in  those 
who  execute  minute  and  delicate  pieces  of  workman- 
ship, or  excel  in  certain  games.  Thus,  the  skilful 
billiard  player  exhibits  a  wonderful  nicety  of  muscular 

1 "  These  bodies  are  external  to  the  sarcolemma,  though  adhering 
intimately  to  it.  ...  It  appears  probable  that  they  are  a  reduplica- 
tion and  expansion  of  continuous  fibres  rather  than  terminal  organ*  v 
formed  upon  the  extremities  of  the  nerve-fibres." — Dr.  Beak. 


THE  BODY.  88 

discrimination  and  adjustment  in  directing  his  balls; 
and  the  expert  batsman  in  cricket  has,  the  instant  he 
sees  the  direction  of  the  ball,  to  decide  upon  the  best 
way  of  meeting  it,  and  to  bring  the  proper  muscles  into 
play.1  We  are  told  that  in  steel-pen  making  "  a  quick 
female  worker  will  cut  out  in  one  day  of  ten  working 
hours  250  gross,  or  36,000  pens,  which  involve  72,000 
distinct  movements  of  the  arm,  two  in  every  second". 
Further,  it  is  found  that  some  persons  can  pronounce 
distinctly  as  many  as  1500  letters  in  a  minute,  each  of 
which  must  involve  a  separate  contraction  and  relaxa- 
tion of  muscular  fibres,  both  occupying  -^ih,  or  each 
TVth  of  a  second.  In  no  other  direction  do  we  find  the 
effects  of  training  more  manifest  than  in  the  muscles ; 
and  the  rapidity  of  movement  or  power  of  sustained 
action  of  which  they  are  capable,  if  properly  trained,  is 
scarcely  conceivable.2 

In  order  to  a  healthy  condition  of  muscle,  a  due 
supply  of  arterial  blood  is  necessary.8  When  the  blood 
is  insufficient  in  quantity  or  deficient  in  oxygen,  or 
charged  with  carbonic  acid,  the  contractile  power  of  the 
muscle  is  largely  diminished,  or  it  may  be  entirely  lost. 
The  next  requisite  is  that  it  receive  a  certain  amount 

1 "  The  batsman,  perhaps,  furnishes  us  with  the  most  striking 
instance  of  the  rapidity  of  thought :  he  sees  the  ball  coming,  he  has 
to  appreciate  its  speed  and  its  direction,  and  he  has  to  determine  in  a 
moment  whether  to  strike  or  block,  and  if  the  former,  in  what  direc- 
tion he  should  swing  his  bat" — Anon. 

2  "  These  qualities  may  be  particularly  observed  in  the  execution 
of  many  species  of  instrumental  music,  in  which  the  changes  pro- 
duced by  the  hand  of  the  musician  are  exceedingly  rapid  ;  are  exactly 
measured  even  when  most  minute  ;  and  display  on  the  part  of  the 
muscles  an  obedience  of  action  alike  wonderful  for  its  quickness  and 
its  correctness.*' — Dr.  Paley. 

9  "  There  can  be  no  question  that  the  condition  most  essential  to 
the  maintenance  of  muscular  contractility  is  an  adequate  supply  of 
arterial  blood." — Dr.  Carpenter. 


84  MEMOBY. 

of  exercise.  If  a  muscle  is  allowed  to  remain  for  any 
length  of  time  in  a  state  of  inaction,  its  substance  is 
gradually  wasted,  and  its  powers  are  proportionally 
weakened, — it  may  be,  eventually  lost.  A  state  of 
continued  contraction  is  so  unnatural  that  it  cannot 
be  maintained  for  any  length  of  time,  the  muscular 
powers  being  speedily  exhausted  without  any  means 
of  restoration.  Hence  the  evils  that  result  to  children 
from  too  long  confinement  in  one  position. 

It  is  by  means  of  exercise  that  we  improve  and 
strengthen  the  muscles,  and  memory  follows  exercise. 
The  muscles  that  are  most  exercised  most  readily 
retain  and  recall  the  impressions  they  have  received. 
,The  seat  of  the  memory  of  these  impressions,  in  our 
view,  is  not  the  brain  or  nerves,  but  the  muscles  them- 
selves, by  which  the  actions  were  effected.  What  the 
muscles  receive  from  the  nerves  is  simply  the  stimulus 
by  which  they  are  set  in  motion.  The  power  of  accu- 
rately regulating  and  directing  the  amount  of  force  to 
be  put  forth  in  any  action  depends  on  the  muscles 
themselves,  and  is  derived  from  the  stored-up  memory 
of  past  impressions.  A  very  feeble  nervous  stimulus 
may  produce  a  great  muscular  effort.1 

1  "  The  amount  of  work  which  a  muscle  does  in  lifting  a  weight 
does  not  depend  on  the  amount  of  stimulus  which  you  apply  to  the 
nerve.  You  set  the  nerve  in  action,  and  it  conveys  some  kind  of 
stimulus  to  the  muscle,  which  has  the  result  of  liberating  the  energy 
stored  up  in  the  latter.  The  muscle  may  be  regarded  really  as  con- 
taining energy  in  a  potential  condition,  and  the  action  of  the  nerve 
is  not  merely  to  force  the  muscle  to  contract,  but,  as  it  were,  to 
set  free  this  energy  in  the  muscle.  ...  A  very  feeble  primary 
irritation  is  sufficient  to  produce  a  great  effect.  The  muscles  contain 
energy  stored  up  in  themselves,  and  the  nerve  may  be  regarded  as 
the  liberator  of  the  energy." — Prof.  M'Kendrick.  It  seems  "that 
irritability  is  a  property  inherent  in  muscular  tissue,  and  that  the 
agency  of"  the  nervous  system  upon  it  is  merely  to  call  it  into  active 
operation". — Dr.  Carpenter.  "It  would  be  a  mistake  to  suppose  that 
they  (the  nerves)  supply  the  force  needed  to  contract  the  muscles ; 


THE   BODY.  85 

There  Can  be  no  doubt  that  the  mind  or  will  has 
naturally  by  no  means  that  control  over  our  move- 
ments that  is  commonly  supposed,  and  that  the  nature 
and  character  of  our  actions  depend  more  upon  the  state 
and  condition  of  our  muscular  system,  and  the  way  in 
which  it  has  been  accustomed  to  act,  than  is  generally 
believed.1  Habits  and  practices  that  have  been  long 
indulged  in  may  set  at  defiance  any  power  of  the  will 
that  can  be  brought  against  them.2  Hence  the  will  or 
desire  to  accomplish  a  particular  purpose,  or  to  carry 

that  we  have  seen  the  muscle  can  supply  for  itself  ;  they  only  send 
the  stimulus  for  its  co-ordinated  production.  ...  It  is  generally 
thought  that  the  spasmodic  actions  induced  by  brucia,  strychnia, 
opium,  &c.,  are  due  to  the  direct  influence  of  the  poison  upon  the 
nerve-tissue.  This  may  be  so,  yet,  perhaps,  the  muscular  system 
shares  more  in  these  phenomena  than  is  generally  recognised."— 
Dr.  Lay  cock. 

1  "  The  whole  process  by  which  we  acquire  the  power  of  adapting 
our  muscular  actions  to  the  performance  of  some  new  kind   of 
movement  ...  is  found,  when  attentively  studied,  to  indicate  that 
the  will  is  far  from  having  that  direct  and  immediate  control  over 
the  contractions  of  the  muscles  which  it  is  commonly  reputed  to 
possess.  .  .  .  However  amenable  any  set  of  muscles  (as  those  of  the 
arm  and  hand)  may  have  become  to  the  direction  of  the  will  in 
any  operations  which  they  have  been  previously  accustomed  to  per- 
form, it  is  only  after  considerable  practice  that  they  can  be  trained 
to  any  method  of  combined  action  which  is  entirely  new  to  them." — 
Dr.  Carpenter. 

2  "  There  is  a  wrong  philosophy  in  supposing  that  a  habit  which 
has  fixed  itself  in  the  fleshy  nature  can  be  overcome  by  the  mere 
exertion  of  the  will.     It  is  not  enough  to  resolve  against  it.     You 
cannot  vanquish  it  by  the  power  of  a  resolution.     To  that  must  be 
added  continuous  training." — H.   W.  Beecher.     "Whatever  a  man 
may  inwardly  think  and  (with  perfect  sincerity)  say,  you  cannot 
fully  depend  upon  his  conduct  till  you  know  how  he  has  been  accus- 
tomed to  act.     For  continued  action  is  like  a  continued  stream  of 
water,  which  wears  for  itself  a  channel  that  it  will  not  be  easily 
turned  from." — Archbp.  Whately.     "  I  see,"  says  the  Apostle  Paul, 
"  another  law  in  my  members  warring  against  the  law  of  my  mind," 
and  u  the  good  that  I  would  I  do  not ;  but  the  evil  that  I  would  not, 
that  I  do.  ...  To  will   is   present  with  me,  but  how  to  perform 
that  which  is  good  I  know  not." 


86  MEMOEY. 

out  a  certain  course  of  conduct,  is  not  enough  ;  the  in- 
dividual must  further  be  taught  how  it  is  to  be  done, 
tod  the  muscles  trained  to  the  proper  movements.  If 
we  wish  a  boy  to  act  in  a  particular  way,  we  must  not 
only  instruct  his  mind  and  give  him  the  desire  so  to  act, 
but  we  must  also  implant  in  him  the  power  and  habit 
of  acting  as  we  wish.1  We  must  take  care  to  have  the 
muscular  memory  on  our  side,  and  not  against  us. 
How  frequently  are  children  scolded  or  punished  for 
faults, — outbursts  of  passion,  or  acts  of  apparent  ob- 
stinacy, that  are  no  more  under  the  power  of  their  will 
than  are  the  motions  of  the  paralytic.  Even  the  will 
itself  requires  to  be  trained  in  order  to  understand  how 
to  rule  and  control  its  subordinates.  No  one  expects 
from  a  child  the  physical  strength  and  endurance  of  a 
man,  but  few  consider  that  it  is  equally  absurd  to  ex- 
pect the  same  strength  of  mind,  or  power  of  will,  or 
sense  of  right  and  wrong.  In  the  one  case  as  in  the 
other,  time  and  patient  and  careful  exercise  are  neces- 
sary,— beginning  with  what  is  simplest  and  easiest, 
and  rising  by  degrees  to  the  more  difficult,  and  more 
arduous. 

In  order  to  train  any  particular  set  of  muscles,  we 
must  exercise  them.  We  cannot  improve  or  strengthen 
any  set  of  muscles  by  the  exercise  of  other  than  them- 
selves. So  with  memory.  We  strengthen  and  improve 
the  memory  of  any  set  of  muscles  by  the  exercise  of 
them,  and  cannot  do  it  in  any  other  way. 

1  "  The  acquirement  of  voluntary  power  over  the  movements  of 
the  limbs  is  just  as  gradual  as  it  is  over  the  direction  of  the  thoughts 
— all  the  activity  of  the  body,  as  well  as  of  the  mind,  being,  in  the 
first  instance,  automatic,  and  the  will  progressively  extending  its 
dominion  over  the  former  as  over  the  latter,  until  it  brings  under  it* 
control  all  those  muscular  movements  which  are  not  immediately 
required  for  the  conservation  of  the  body,  and  turns  them  to  its  own 
uses," — Dr.  Carpenter. 


THE  BODY.  87 

Our  physical  actions  have  an  important  bearing  upon 
our  mental  states.  Our  thoughts  spring  from  our 
actions,  and  there  is  every  reason  to  believe  that  with- 
out action,  without  the  power  of  giving  expression  to 
our  thoughts,  we  could  not  think.1  In  the  new-born 
babe  action  precedes  both  thought  and  feeling ;  for  the 
child  does  not  feel,  or  think,  or  will,  before  the  perfor- 
mance of  movement,  but  the  feeling,  thinking,  willing, 
result  from  such  performance.2  It  is  well  known,  too, 
that  certain  movements  or  attitudes  of  the  body  give 
rise  to  corresponding  thoughts  or  feelings  in  the  mind ; 8 
and  is  it  not  frequently  the  case  that  men  act  first  and 
think  afterwards, — that  the  thought  does  not  lead  to 
the  action,  but  the  action  give  rise  to  the  thought  ? 
This  seems  to  be  borne  out  by  what  we  observe  in  the 
course  of  human  progress,  where  we  find  the  art  usually 
preceding  the  science,  and  men  practising  the  arts  of 
poetry,  rhetoric,  logic,  painting,  &c.,  before  they  knew 
or  thought  of  the  rules  applicable  to  these  subjects. 

The  importance  of  action  or  expression  to  thought  is 
further  seen  in  the  case  of  persons  of  weak  mind  or 
little  culture,  some  of  whom  will  be  observed  to  require 
to  repeat  a  question  or  a  sentence  to  themselves  before 

1  "The  expression  or  embodiment  of  the  feeling  ...  is  not  only 
the  means  of  making  known  the  state  to  others,  but  also  an  essential 
concomitant  of  its  own  existence." — Prof.  Bain. 

2  "  Movement  precedes  sensation,  and  is  at  the  outset  independent 
of  any  stimulus  from  without." — Prof.  Bain. 

8  "  When  we  fix  the  countenance  in  the  expression,  or  the  body 
in  the  attitude  which  any  passion  naturally  occasions,  it  is  most 
certain  that  we  acquire,  in  some  degree,  that  passion.  .  .  .  The 
special  muscular  action  is  not  merely  the  exponent  of  the  passion, 
but  truly  an  essential  part  of  it." — Dr.  H.  Maudsley.  "  The  expres- 
sion or  embodiment  of  the  feeling  ...  is  not  only  the  means  of 
making  known  the  state  to  others,  but  also  an  essential  concomitant 
of  its  own  existence.  ...  I  look  upon  the  expression  so  called  as 
part  and  parcel  of  the  feeling." — Prof.  Bain. 


88  MEMOEY. 

they  can  comprehend  it.  "  Such  an  one,"  says  Dr. 
Maudsley,  "  often  cannot  content  himself  with  the 
mental  representation  of  a  word,  or  clearly  comprehend 
a  question  put  to  him  without  bringing  the  actual 
movements  to  his  assistance, — he  must  utter  the  word 
or  repeat  the  question  aloud  in  order  to  get  his  concep- 
tion distinctly."  Thus,  when  the  mind  is  weak  and 
defective,  it  seems  to  require  the  aid  of  the  correspond- 
ing muscular  movements  in  order  to  have  clear  concep- 
tions. 

By  giving  expression  to  a  thought  we  give  it  clear- 
ness, definiteness,  and  point ;  by  putting  our  beliefs  into 
practice  we  test  and  sift  them.  Our  actions,  likewise, 
serve  the  important  purpose  of  regulating  and  control- 
ling our  thoughts,  and  checking  unprofitable  and  dreamy 
flights  of  the  fancy.1  The  man  whose  physical  powers 
are  but  little  called  into  exercise  is  thus  in  a  measure 
cut  off  from  the  sober  realities  of  life,  and  is  apt  to  en- 
tertain very  extravagant  notions  of  things.  From 
dwelling  too  much  in  the  region  of  thought,  he  becomes 
a  day  dreamer  or  an  enthusiast ;  and,  losing  sight  of 
the  distinction  between  thought  and  action,  the  two 
become  in  his  mind  almost  identical,  and  he  fancies 
that  to  act  is  scarcely,  if  at  all,  more  difficult  than  to 
think, — that  a  thing  may  be  done  almost  as  easily  as 
thought  about.  This  is  borne  out  by  what  is  observed 
in  the  case  of  those  who  have  lost  the  muscular  sense 
or  sense  of  motion,  as  in  the  general  paralytic, — such  an 
one  having  engendered  in  his  mind  the  most  extravagant 
notions  of  what  he  can  do.2  By  recognising  the  part 

1  "  The  perfect  function  of  the  muscular  sense  is  not  only  of  essen- 
tial importance  to  the  expression  of  our  active  life,  but,  like  the  func- 
tion of  any  one  of  the  special  senses,  it  has  its  due  part  in  ovr  mental 
life." — Dr.  Maudsley. 

8  "  As  the  sleeper,  whose  external  senses  are  so  closed  as  to  shut 


THE   BODY.  89 

which  the  hody,  and  particularly  the  muscular  system, 
plays  in  our  actions  and  conduct,  and  even  in  our 
thoughts,  we  come  to  know  the  source  of  many  of 
our  defects  and  shortcomings,  and  to  understand  how 
to  deal  with  them. 

The  nervous  system  is  the  highest  and  most  perfectly 
organised  portion  of  our  physical  nature.  All  the  other 
parts  of  the  body  exist  to  serve  and  minister  to  this  as 
chief,  and  from  it  they  derive  their  vitality  and  power 
of  acting.  It  is  especially  in  the  superiority  of  his 
nervous  organisation,  and  more  particularly  of  his  brain, 
that  man  physically  excels  all  the  lower  animals. 

The  nervous  system  is  the  means  through  which  the 
mind  acts  upon  the  body,  and  the  body  upon  the  mind. 
The  impressions  that  are  made  upon  the  organs  of  sense 
are  taken  up  by  the  nerves,  and  conducted  to  the  great 
central  nervous  organ,  the  brain ;  and  from  this  organ, 
by  means  of  nerves,  the  influences  are  transmitted 
which  set  in  motion  and  direct  all  our  physical  ac- 
tivities. In  the  central  nervous  organ  we  have  the 

out  the  controlling  influence  of  external  objects,  often  does  in  his 
dreams  the  most  wonderful  things,  and  finds  little  or  no  hindrance 
to  an  almost  miraculous  activity,  intellectual  or  bodily,  so  the  general 
paralytic,  whose  defective  muscular  feeling  cuts  him  off  from  the  due 
appreciation  of  external  relations,  has  engendered  in  his  mind  the 
most  extravagant  notions  as  to  his  personal  power  ;  he  dreams  with 
his  eyes  open.  ...  A  tailor  who  is  suffering  from  general  para- 
lysis will  readily  promise  to  make  a  magnificent  waistcoat,  and  if 
the  materials  are  supplied  to  him  will  at  once  set  to  work.  It  is  not 
improbable  that,  deceived  by  his  quiet  assurance,  and  knowing  that 
to  sew  is  his  business,  one  may  believe  he  can  make  the  waist- 
coat. But  in  a  little  while  it  will  be  found  that  his  stitches  are 
most  unequal  in  size,  and  are  placed  in  the  most  disorderly  way  ;  and 
it  is  made  clear  that,  whatever  he  himself  may  think,  he  certainly 
cannot  sew.  He  has  a  sufficient  desire  to  accomplish  the  result,  an 
adequate  general  notion  of  the  end  desired,  a  full  belief  in  his  ability 
to  effect  it,  but  he  fails  because  his  muscular  feeling  is  very  deficient, 
and  because  he  cannot  regulate  the  action  of  the  necessary  muscles.* 
— Dr.  H.  Maudsley. 


90  MEMORY. 

principal,  if  not  the  sole,  physical  seat  of  all  that  is  em- 
braced under  the  term  mind, — sensation,  thought,  voli- 
tion. Further,  the  nerves  serve  to  connect  together  the 
different  parts  or  organs  of  the  body,  and  to  unite  them 
into  one  complete  whole  under  the  great  central  organ 
by  which  they  are  all  animated  and  controlled.  The 
body  being  made  up  of  a  number  of  different  parts,  all 
dependent  upon  each  other,  it  is  necessary  that  they  be 
connected  together,  and  be  under  the  direction  and 
control  of  some  central  authority,  in  order  to  their 
working  together  in  harmony.1 

In  the  nervous  system  we  have  two  distinct  kinds  of 
organs,  differently  constituted,  and  performing  different 
functions, — the  nerves  and  the  nervous  centres.  The 
nerves  serve  to  connect  the  different  parts  of  the  body 
with  the  centres,  thus  forming  the  means  for  the  trans- 
mission of  influences  from  the  one  to  the  other ;  while 
the  centres  generate  nerve  force,  and  also  enable  the 
different  nerves  and  nerve  fibres  to  communicate  with 
each  other,  and  to  act  in  harmony.  The  great  central 
mass  of  the  nervous  system  is  named  the  cerebro-spinal 
centre  or  cerebro-spinal  axis,  and  comprises  the  brain  and 
spinal  cord.  The  nerves  connected  with  it  proceed 
principally  to  the  muscles,  the  organs  of  the  senses,  and 
the  skin. 

Besides  this,  there  are  situated  in  different  parts  of 
the  body,  and  connected  with  nerves,  numerous  bodies 
named  ganglia,  which,  though  much  smaller  in  size  and 
less  complex  in  structure  than  the  brain,  agree  with 
fchat  organ  in  their  general  formation,  and  in  their  rela- 

1  By  means  of  the  nervous  system  "  we  are  brought  into  those  rela- 
tions with  the  external  world  which  give  rise  to  sensation.  It  also 
regulates  and  co-ordinates  all  the  processes  of  life.  It  gives  unity  to 
the  wondrous  multiplicity  of  organs  and  their  actions,  making  each 
depend  on  each,  and  all  co-operate  to  one  end.": — Gr.  H.  Lewes. 


THE   BODY.  91 

fcion  to  the  nerve  fibres,  and  doubtless  also,  in  some 
measure,  in  regard  to  the  functions  which  they  perform, 
or  the  uses  they  serve  in  the  animal  economy.  They 
constitute,  indeed,  so  many  nervous  centres  to  which 
impressions  are  conveyed,  and  from  which  stimuli  are 
emitted,  but  they  act  without  consciousness  and  with- 
out the  intervention  of  the  will.1  A  chain  of  ganglia, 
connected  by  nerve  cords,  runs  along  each  side  of  the 
spinal  column,  from  the  cranium  to  the  pelvis,  and 
from  this  nerves  with  ganglia  proceed  to  the  viscera 
contained  in  the  thoracic  and  abdominal  cavities  and 
the  bloodvessels,  by  means  of  which  their  movements 
are  carried  on.  These  constitute  the  ganglionic  or 
sympathetic  system.  The  nerves  of  the  sympathetic 
differ  from  those  of  the  cerebro-spinal  system,  in  being 
generally  of  a  greyish  or  reddish  colour,  and  in  having 
numerous  ganglia  in  connection  with  them.  The  two 
systems  are  connected  together  by  certain  branches  of 
nerves  which  pass  from  the  one  to  the  other,  so  that 
most  of  the  nerves  of  one  system  contain  also  fibres 
belonging  to  the  other.  Hence  we  may  have  feelings  of 
pain  or  discomfort  in  organs  connected  with  the  sym- 
pathetic system,  when  these  are  in  a  state  of  disease  or 

1MIt  seems  reasonable  to  conclude  .  .  .  that  the  ganglia  are 
nervous  centres  which  may  probably  receive,  through  afferent 
fibres,  impressions  of  which  we  are  unconscious,  and  reflect  these 
impressi  onal  stimuli  upon  efferent  or  motor  fibres  ;  that  perhaps 
evsn  certain  motorial  stimuli  emanate  from  them, — the  movements 
excited  by,  or  through,  the  ganglia  being  always  involuntary,  and 
affecting  chiefly  the  muscular  parts  of  the  viscera,  the  sanguiferous 
and,  perhaps,  the  absorbent  vessels  ;  and  that,  in  fine,  the  chief  pur- 
pose served  in  the  animal  economy  by  the  ganglia  and  the  ganglionic 
nerve  fibres,  whether  existing  in  acknowledged  branches  of  the  sym- 
pathetic or  contained  in  other  nerves,  is  to  govern  the  involuntary 
and,  for  the  most  part,  imperceptible  movements  of  nutrition,  in  so 
far  at  least  as  these  movements  are  not  dependent  on  the  brain  and 
spinal  cord." — Quain's  Anatomy. 


92  MEMORY. 

suffering  from  injury ;  and  in  like  manner  mental  ex- 
citement may  cause  itself  to  be  felt,  and  produce  disturb- 
ance in  these  organs. 

The  several  organs  which  constitute  the  nervous 
system  are  composed  of  two  distinct  substances  differ- 
ing from  each  other  in  colour,  structure,  and  chemical 
composition.  The  one,  characterised  by  its  dark,  red- 
dish grey  colour,  and  hence  called  the  "grey"  or 
"  cineritious"  substance,  is  vesicular  in  structure  aiid 
of  a  soft  consistence ;  the  other  is  white  and  fibrous, 
and  known  as  the  "white"  or  " medullary "  substance. 
The  former  is  usually  found  collected  in  masses  inter- 
mingled with  the  fibrous  substance  in  the  nervous 
centres, — the  brain,  spinal  cord,  and  ganglia ;  the  latter, 
besides  entering  largely  into  the  composition  of  the 
nervous  centres,  constitutes  the  substance  of  the  nerves. 
The  difference  in  structure  of  the  two  substances 
naturally  leads  to  the  conclusion  that  they  perform 
different  functions,  and  the  generally  received  opinion 
is  that  the  grey  matter  serves  to  generate  or  evolve 
nerve  force,  while  the  white  matter,  whether  in  the 
centres  or  in  the  nerves,  acts  merely  as  a  conductor  of 
impressions. 

The  grey  substance,  when  examined  microscopically, 
is  found  to  be  composed  of  minute  cells  or  corpuscles, 
commonly  called  "  nerve  corpuscles,"  mingled  with 
a  greater  or  less  number  of  nerve  fibres,  and  imbedded 
in  more  or  less  of  a  dimly  shaded  granular  substance, 
which  gives  to  it  its  peculiarly  grey  or  reddish  grey 
appearance.  The  nerve  cells  occupy  a  considerable 
place  in  the  brain  and  spinal  cord,  and  principally 
compose  the  ganglia.  They  are  always  found  in  con- 
nection with  nerve  fibres,  which  either  spring  from  or 
terminate  in  them. 


THE  UODY.  93 

Each  cell  is  composed  of  an  exceedingly  delicate 
membranous  wall,  enclosing  a  soft,  finely  granular, 
reddish  brown  substance,  and  containing  also,  attached 
to  some  part  of  its  interior,  a  clear  round  nucleus, 
within  which  is  a  minute  but  particularly  clear  and 
brilliant  nucleolus.1  Each  also  sends  out  two  or  more 
processes  or  poles,  composed  of  the  same  material  as 
its  own  body,  and  serving  to  connect  it  with  the  fibres 
of  the  nerves.  The  nerve  cells  vary  considerably  in 
size,  and  differ  greatly  in  form,  but  two  principal  kinds 
are  usually  distinguished, — the  angular  or  caudate, 
which  are  larger  than  the  other,  and  occur  principally 
in  the  brain  and  spinal  cord,  and  the  spherical,  ovoidal, 
or  pyriform,  which  are  most  numerous  in  the  ganglia. 
The  former  send  out  from  their  surface  several  pro- 
cesses, which,  as  a  rule,  divide  and  subdivide  as  they 
pass  away  from  the  body,  till  they  attain  extreme 
minuteness,  when  they  appear  to  form  networks  with 
other  cell  processes,  and  afterwards  to  unite  with  them 
in  constituting  nerve  fibres.  One  at  least,  however,  of 
the  processes  of  a  multipolar  cell  does  not  branch,  but 
becomes  directly  continuous  with  a  nerve  fibre,  and  is 
called  the  "axis-cylinder  process".  Eecent  physio- 
logical investigations  seem  to  show  that  a  greater 
similarity  in  structure  exists  between  the  axis-cylinder 


1  "  Photo-chemical  histology  shows  us  that  the  protoplasm  of  the 
cell  formerly  described  as  a  homogeneous  substance  is  arranged  in  a 
ribrillary  trellis-work  ;  that  its  nucleus  presents  an  arrangement  of 
radiated  fibres  ;  and  that  what  was  thought  to  be  the  nucleolus  is 
itself  a  complex  element.  The  nerve  cell  thus  becomes  in  its  turn  a 
little  nervous  organ  sui  generis.  The  same  analytic  processes  enable 
us  moreover  to  demonstrate  that  the  network,  so  dense  and  compact, 
which  unites  all  the  nerve  cells  of  the  cerebral  cortex,  for  instance, 
one  with  another,  is  so  delicate  that,  when  enlarged  to  286  diameters, 
the  fibres  of  which  it  is  composed  become  visible  like  single  hairs  in 
appearance  and  magnitude,  &c,"— J.  Luys. 


94  MEMOBY. 

of  the  nerve  and  the  nerve  cell  than  was  formerly 

supposed.1 

The  pyriform  or  pear-shaped  cells  have  two  processes 
proceeding  from  the  small  end  of  each  cell, — one 
straight  and  of  some  thickness,  resembling  a  stalk;  the 
other  smaller,  rising  at  some  distance  from  the  former, 
twisting  several  times  spirally  round  it,  and  then  going 
off  in  an  apparently  opposite  direction.  The  straight 
process  rises  in  the  interior  of  the  cell-substance,  arid 
some  believe  that  they  have  traced  it  into  the  nucleus, 
while  the  spiral  process  appears  to  have  a  more  super- 
ficial origin.  The  nerve  cells  are  generally  regarded  as 
being  the  seat  of  nervous  energy.  They  also  serve  as  a 
means  of  joining  together  different  fibres,  and  thus 
establish  a  vast  system  of  connections  necessary  to  the 
co-ordinating  of  movements  and  the  concatenating  of 
sensations.  Dr.  Beale  is  of  opinion  that  the  two  kinds 
of  cells  differ  in  function  as  well  as  in  structure,  and 
thinks  it  probable  that  the  caudate  cells  serve  only  to 
connect  together  different  fibres,  and  to  distribute  nerve 
force,  while  the  pyriform  cells  simply  generate  force. 

The  nerves  have  the  form  of  cords,  and  proceed  from 
the  cerebro-spinal  or  other  centre  to  the  parts  of  the 
body  with  which  they  are  in  connection, — each  nerve 
being  composed  of  a  number  of  nerve  fibres  enclosed  in 

1  "  The  central  extremities  of  the  nerve  fibres  lie  in  relation  to, 
and  are  often  directly  continuous  with,  the  nerve  cells.  ...  In  the 
bipolar  cells  the  axial  cylinder  of  the  fibre  is  continuous  with  the 
cell-substance,  and  Schultze  has  shown  that  both  exhibit  a  delicate 
fibrillated  structure.  The  medullary  sheath  and  the  primitive  mem- 
brane are  also  usually  continued  from  the  fibre  over. the  nerve  cell. 
Hence  these  bipolar  cells  seem  to  be,  as  Schultze  expressed  it, 
nucleated  enlargements  of  the  axial  cylinder.  .  .  .  Schultze  haa 
pointed  out  that  not  only  the  protoplasm  substance  of  the  body  of  a 
multipolar  nerve  cell,  but  both  the  non-branched  and  branched 
processes  possess  a  fibrillated  structure  similar  to  that  described  by 
him  in  the  axial  cylinder  of  the  nerve  fibres." — Pro/.  Turner. 


THE   BODY.  95 

one  sheath.  The  fibres  are  distinguished  as  "  afferent" 
and  "  efferent/'  the  former  serving  to  conduct  im- 
pressions from  the  different  parts  or  organs  of  the  body 
with  which  they  are  in  connection  to  the  centres,  being 
also  termed  "  centripetal," — while  the  latter  convey 
stimuli  from  the  centres  to  the  several  organs,  and  are 
also  called  "  centrifugal".1  We  are  of  opinion,  how- 
ever, that  the  function  of  each  class  of  nerves  is  not 
confined  to  conveying  impressions  only  in  one  direc- 
tion, but  that  afferent  nerves,  while  primarily  con- 
veying impressions  from  the  organs  of  sense  to  the 
brain,  have  also  the  power  of  transmitting  impulses 
from  the  brain  to  the  organs  of  sense ;  and  in  like 
manner  efferent  nerves,  while  primarily  serving  to 
convey  impressions  from  the  brain,  to  the  muscles, 
have  also  the  power  of  carrying  impulses  from  the 
muscles  to  the  brain.  This  will  be  explained  more 
fully  in  the  next  chapter.  Usually  both  sets  of  fibres 
are  bound  up  together  in  one  sheath,  but  the  one  set 
of  fibres  never  directly  communicates  with  the  other, — 
each  carries  its  own  independent  stimulus  through  its 
entire  length.  Fibres  can  only  communicate  with 
other  fibres,  and  the  stimulus  conveyed  by  one  be 
transmitted  to  others  by  means  of  the  nerve  cells  in 
the  centres  with  which  they  are  connected. 

Nerves  very  often  divide  into  branches,  and  the 
branches  '  of  different  nerves  not  unfrequently  come 
together  and  form  plexuses  or  networks,  in  which  they 

1 "  The  fibres  of  nerves  are  endowed  with  the  property  of  trans- 
mitting impressions,  or  rather  impulses  the  effect  of  impressions, 
from  the  points  stimulated  towards  their  central  or  their  peripheral 
extremities.  Certain  fibres  are  employed  to  conduct  towards  the 
nervous  centres,  and  are  named  *  afferent/  others  to  conduct  towards 
their  distal  extremities,  which  are  distributed  in  moving  parts,  and 
khese  fibres  are  named  « efferent  V— Qwaiw1*  Anatomy. 


96  MEMORY. 

exchange  fibres  with  each  other,  but  the  fibres  them- 
selves never  unite  or  coalesce.  A  nerve  on  leaving 
a  plexus  may  thus  contain  fibres  from  all  the  nerves 
entering  it.  In  this  way  a  wider  distribution  is  given 
to  fibres  of  the  same  nerves,  and  thus  different  parts 
are  able  to  be  brought  into  combined  action. 

The  cerebro-spinal  nerves  are  all  connected  with  the 
brain  or  spinal  cord  by  one  extremity.which  is  termed 
the  origin  or  root.  In  some  cases  the  root  is  single,  or 
rises  from  one  spot,  in  others  there  are  two  or  more 
roots.  Sometimes  the  roots  differ  from  each  other  not 
only  in  origin  but  also  in  character  or  function,— the 
one,  it  may  be,  containing  only  motor,  the  other  only 
sensory,  fibres,  as  in  the  spinal  nerves, — in  which,  though 
the  two  kinds  of  nerves  are  separated  at  their  roots,  they 
are  mixed  and  bound  up  together  in  the  same  sheath  in 
their  trunks  and  branches. 

The  fibres  of  a  nerve,  on  quitting  the  surface  of  the 
brain  or  cord,  are,  in  most  cases,  collected  into  funiculi, 
which  are  each  invested  in  a  sheath  of  neurilemma;  and 
on  escaping  from  the  skull  or  spine,  each  nerve  acquires 
its  external  stout  fibrous  sheath,  which  unites  all  its 
funiculi  into  a  firm  cord.  If  a  nerve  be  very  small  it 
may  consist  only  of  one  funiculus,  but  in  the  larger 
nerves  several  funiculi  are  united  together  into  one  or 
more  bundles,  which,  being  wrapped  up  in  a  common 
membranous  covering,  constitute  the  nerve.  .  The  funi- 
culi do  not  run  along  the  nerve  as  parallel  insulated 
cords,  but  join  together  obliquely  at  short  distances  as 
they  proceed  in  their  course, — the  cords  resulting  from 
such  union  dividing  in  their  further  progress  to  form 
junctions  again  with  their  collateral  cords ;  but  with  all 
these  changes  the  individual  fibres  always  remain  dis- 
tinct. 


THE    BODY.  97 

The  nerve  fibres  are  of  two  kinds, — the  one  white, 
tubular,  medullated,  and  dark  bordered,  the  other  grey 
or  pale,  and  non-medullated.  In  most  nerves  both 
kinds  of  fibres  are  to  be  met  with,  but  the  white  are 
most  numerous  in,  and  are  characteristic  of,  the  nerves 
of  the  cerebro-spinal  system,  while  the  grey  are  found 
chiefly  in,  and  characterise,  the  nerves  of  the  sympa- 
thetic system.  The  nerves  of  voluntary  muscles  have 
very  few  giey  fibres,  usually  not  more  than  one  in  ten, 
while  in  the  nerves  of  involuntary  muscles  the  grey 
fibres  immensely  predominate. 

The  white  or  medullary  fibres  constitute  the  white 
portion  of  the  brain  and  spinal  cord,  and  the  nerves. 
They  differ  considerably  in  size  from  T^cro^h  or  TTwo"^h 
to  TzV^th  or  more  of  an  inch  in  diameter,  being  largest 
in  the  trunks  and  branches,  and  becoming  smaller  as 
they  enter  the  brain  or  spinal  cord,  and  generally  also 
towards  their  other  extremity.  Each  fibre  is  a  tube 
filled  with  partly  fluid  contents.  The  outer  covering 
is  a  thin,  delicate,  transparent  membrane,  commonly 
called  the  "  neurilemma"  or  "primitive  sheath ".  In 
a  perfectly  fresh  nerve  the  contents  of  this  sheath  has 
the  appearance  of  a  clear,  homogeneous,  oil-like,  or 
fatty  fluid ;  but  in  a  short  time,  through  exposure,  a 
sort  of  coagulation  or  congelation  appears  to  take 
place,  when  the  outer  portion  becomes  white, 
shining,  and  opaque,  and  is  known  as  the  "  medullary 
sheath*'  or  "white  substance  of  Schwann,"  while  in 
the  centre  is  a  thread  of  greyish  white  matter  called 
the  "  axis  cylinder".  This  does  not  exceed  xWowth  of 
an  inch  in  diameter,  is  of  an  albuminous  nature,  and 
possessed  of  some  degree  of  firmness  and  elasticity. 
In  some  nerves,  at  least,  it  appears  longitudinally 
striated,  which  has  led  to  the  opinion  that  it  is  com- 


98  MEMOBY. 

posed  of  a  number  of  fibrillae  or  minute  fibres.  It  is 
undoubtedly  the  most  essential  portion  of  the  nerve, 
being  that  which  is  always  present,  and  being  con- 
tinuous with  the  nerve  cells  at  one  extremity  and  the 
peripheral  end  organs  at  the  other,  while  the  white 
substance  is  rarely  present  at  the  extremities.  Often 
before  its  final  termination  it  breaks  up  into  subdivi- 
sions, and  acquires  more  or  less  the  character  of  grey 
fibres.  The  office  of  the  white  substance  would  appear 
to  be  to  act  as  an  insulator  to  the  axis  cylinder. 

The  non-medullated  fibres  are  composed  of  pale  grey 
translucent  flattened  bands  from  ^nnnrth  to  Winrth  of  an 
inch  in  diameter,  and  resemble  in  appearance  the  axis 
cylinder  of  medullated  nerve  fibres.  Like  the  latter, 
too,  when  carefully  examined,  they  present  a  delicate 
fibrillated  appearance,  and  are  likewise  supposed  to  be 
composed  of  numerous  extremely  delicate  fibrillae. 
They  form  the  principal  part  of  the  trunk  and  branches 
of  the  sympathetic  nerves,  and  are  mingled  in  various 
proportions  in  the  nerves  of  the  cerebro-spinal  system. 

The  cerebro-spinal  centre  is  that  part  of  the  nervous 
system  which  is  contained  within  the  bony  cavities  of 
the  skull  and  spinal  column.  The  principal  parts  con- 
tained within  the  skull  or  cranium  are  the  cerebrum, 
cerebellum,  corpora  quadrigemina,  corpora  striata, 
optic  thalami,  crura  cerebri,  pons  varolii,  and  medulla 
oblongata ;  while  within  the  spinal  column  is  the  spina) 
cord. 

The  cerebrum,  or  brain  proper,  is  the  organ  by  which 
the  highest  mental  operations  are  carried  on,  and  it 
appropriately  occupies  a  position  above  all  the  other 
organs  which  are  subordinate  to  it.  It  is  situated  in 
the  upper  part  of  the  skull,  and  forms  about  five-sixths 
of  the  entire  mass  of  nervous  matter  contained  within 


THE  BODY.  99 

that  cavity.  It  is  ovoid  in  shape,  but  is  irregularly 
flattened  on  its  under  surface  ;  and  is  divided  into  two 
lateral  halves,  termed  hemispheres,  by  the  great  longi- 
tudinal fissure  which  passes  quite  through  its  substance 
before  and  behind,  but  in  the  middle  is  interrupted  by 
a  transverse  portion  of  white  matter  termed  the  corpus 
callosum,  which  connects  together  the  two  hemispheres. 
Each  hemisphere  is  subdivided  into  three  lobes, — the 
anterior,  middle,  and  posterior, — but  it  is  only  on  the 
under  surface  that  these  are  distinctly  marked:  The 
anterior  and  middle  lobes  are  separated  from  each  other 
by  a  deep  fissure  called  the  fissura  sylvia,  which  extends 
obliquely  backwards  to  a  considerable  depth.  The 
middle  and  posterior  lobes  are  not  so  clearly  marked 
off,  but  the  posteiior.is  generally  considered  to  be  that 
portion  which  lies  directly  over  the  cerebellum. 

The  surface  of  the  hemispheres  presents  numerous 
tortuous  eminences,  named  convolutions,  which  are 
separated  from  each  other  by  deep  grooves  or  furrows. 
In  this  way  a  much  greater  extent  of  surface  is  obtained 
in  the  same  space ;  and  as  the  grey  matter  forms  the 
outer  surface  of  the  cerebrum,  lining  the  various  fissures 
as  well  as  covering  the  different  convolutions,  it  follows 
that  the  greater  the  number  and  depth  of  these,  the 
greater  the  extent  of  the  grey  matter.  This  is  usually 
regarded  as  the  seat  of  the  higher  mental  operations, 
and  hence  we  find  the  convolutions  more  numerous 
and  marked  as  the  mental  powers  are  more  highly 
developed.1  They  are  more  prominent  in  man  than  in 
any  of  the  lower  animals,  in  the  civilised  man  than  in 

1 "  From  these  premises  it  may  be  laid  down  as  a  just  conclusion 
that  the  convolutions  of  the  brain  are  the  centres  of  intellectual 
action,  or,  more  strictly,  that  this  centre  consists  in  that  vast  sheet  of 
vascular  matter  which  crowns  the  convoluted  surface  of  the  hemi- 
spheres."— Todd  and  Bowman. 


100  MEMOBT. 

the  savage,  and  in  the  man  of  mature  years  than  in  the 
infant.  The  more  highly  developed  the  brain,  the  more 
irregular  and  tortuous  appear  the  convolutions  ;  but  on 
comparing  different  brains,  and  in  particular  the  brains 
of  different  animals,  they  are  found  to  possess  a  certain 
regularity  and  plan. 

The  grey  or  cortical  surface  of  the  cerebrum  is  about 
one-fifth  of  an  inch  thick,  and  is  arranged  in  layers,  of 
which  there  are  usually  reckoned  six,  and  which  are 
white  and  grey  alternately,  a  white  layer  being  the 
outermost.  The  white  layers  are  largely  composed 
of  nerve  fibres  running  in  various  directions  —  some 
towards  the  surface,  others  more  or  less  parallel  to  it. 
They  become  gradually  smaller  as  they  approach  the 
surface,  and  in  the  external  layer  are  of  extreme  minute- 
ness, disposed  in  layers  one  over  another,  and  crossing 
each  other  in  various  directions.  In  this  last  the  nerve 
cells  are  small  and  not  very  numerous,  nor  are  they  very 
numerous  in  the  other  white  layers.  They  are,  how- 
ever, very  abundant  in  the  grey  layers,  many  of  them 
being  of  considerable  size,  and  are  chiefly  remarkable 
for  the  number  of  processes  which  they  send  out,  and 
which  serve  to  connect  them  with  the  nerve  fibres.1 

1  The  nerve  cells  of  the  cortical  substance  "  lie  in  juxtaposition 
and  enter  into  close  relationship  one  with  another.  They  are  further 
arranged  in  regularly  stratified  zones  one  above  another ;  and  they 
form  by  their  prolongations  a  tissue  which  is  everywhere  continuous, 
and  thus  produces  unity  of  action  between  this  multitude  of  isolated 
elements."  Thus  "the  cortical  substance  represents  an  immense  instru- 
ment, constituted  of  nervous  elements,  each  gifted,  it  is  true,  with  its 
proper  individuality  and  yet  intimately  connected  one  with  another. 
The  series  of  cells  arranged  in  stratified  zones,  and  the  connections 
of  the  different  strata  communicating  one  with  another,  imply  the 
idea  that  the  nervous  activities  of  each  zone  may  be  isolatedly 
evoked ;  that  they  may  be  associated  one  with  another  ;  that  they 
may  be  modified  in  passing  from  one  region  to  another,  according  to 
the  nature  of  the  intermediary  cells  brought  into  play  ;  that,  in  a 
word,  nervous  actions,  like  vibratory  undulations,  must  propagate 


THE  BQDY.  101 

The  cells  are  not  sensitive  to  pain,  but  have  a  sensibility 
of  their  own  to  the  ideas  that  are  fashioned  in  them.1 

The  white  or  medullary  substance  forming  the  in- 
terior of  the  brain  is  composed  wholly  of  nerve  fibres, 
which  enter  the  grey  substance  more  or  less  at  right 
angles  to  its  surface,  and  at  the  other  end  converge 
towards  the  corpora  striata  and  the  optic  thalami,  thus 
forming  a  communication  between  these  bodies  and  the 
outer  grey  matter.  Besides  these  fibres  there  are 
certain  groups  of  others,  some  extending  transversely, 

themselves  through  one  point  of  contact  after  another,  following  the 
direction  of  the  organic  substance  that  underlies  them,  either  trans- 
versely or  vertically,  from  the  superficial  to  the  deep  regions,  and 
vice  versd"  Further,  we  may  "suppose  that  the  sub-meningeal 
regions,  principally  occupied  by  the  small  cells,  may  be  specially 
connected  with  the  phenomena  of  sensation,  while  the  deeper  regions, 
occupied  by  groups  of  large  cells,  may  be  considered  as  the  most 
important  regions  that  give  rise  to  motor  phenomena.  ...  It  is 
necessary,  then,  that  between  these  two  poles  of  the  system  there 
shall  be  a  simultaneous  co-operation.  ...  It  is  also  necessary 
that  at  the  moment  when  the  excitation  from  the  external  world 
arrives  in  the  sensorium  it  shall  be  introduced  methodically,  and 
in  a  gradual  manner  ;  that  it  shall  work  its  passage  independently  ; 
and  that  at  the  moment  at  which  it  is  there  deposited  it  shall  vibrate 
alone,  and  alone  imprint  the  records  of  its  presence  upon  the  plexuses 
of  the  sensorium.  ...  It  is  by  means  of  this  organic  mechanism 
that  movement  and  life  are  incessantly  spread  through  the  plexuses 
of  the  cerebral  cortex ;  that  excitations  of  all  kinds  spring  up  in  their 
minute  structure  on  the  arrival  of  external  impressions ;  that  the 
materials  of  the  past  become  associated  with  recent  ideas  and  im- 
pressions ;  and  that,  in  a  word,  those  marvellous  phenomena,  so 
instantaneous  and  so  varied,  presented  by  the  activity  of  the  brain 
are  developed.  ...  By  means  of  these  connections  our  ideas  are 
associated,  grouping  themselves  methodically  into  contemporary 
reminiscences,  appealing  one  to  another  when  the  first  link  of  the 
chain  has  been  struck."—/.  Luys. 

1  **  They  live,  they  feel,  and,  what  is  more,  they  remember,  for 
then  it  is  that  this  new  property  of  preserving  records  of  past  experi- 
ences, appearing  in  full  force,  gives  a  special  character  of  permanence 
to  all  the  excitations  that  arrive,  and  enables  them  to  survive  them- 
selves, to  prolong  their  existence  in  the  form  of  memories,  and  to  be 
marked  in  the  calendar  of  our  sensitive  impressions  with  a  special 
co-efficient  of  pleasure  or  pain." — /.  Luys. 
9 


102  MEHOBt. 

and  serving  to  connect  the  two  hemispheres,  others 
running  longitudinally  and  connecting  the  anterior  with 
the  posterior  lobes  of  the  same  hemisphere.  Of  the 
former  the  principal  group  forms  the  corpus  callosum,  or 
great  transverse  commissure,  a  large  mass  of  white 
fibres  very  closely  interlaced  together,  and  stretching 
from  one  hemisphere  to  the  other.1  Though  it  is 
impossible  to  trace  the  fibres,  there  is  reason  to  believe 
that  they  extend  to  the  outer  grey  substance.  Besides 
these  there  are  numerous  fibres  connecting  the  different 
convolutions  and  different  parts  of  the  same  convo- 
lution. 

From  its  highly  organized  structure,  its  size,  position, 
and  the  large  quantity  of  blood  which  it  receives,  there 
can  be  little  doubt  that  the  cerebrum  is  the  seat  of 
man's  highest  powers,  the  material  organ  of  the  faculties 
of  the  mind.2  It  also  possesses  a  direct  or  indirect 

1 "  Cases  have  occurred  in  which  this  has  heen  nearly  or  even 
entirely  deficient  in  man,  and  it  is  significant  that  the  chief  defect  in 
the  characters  of  such  individuals  has  been  observed  to  be  a  want  of 
forethought,  i.e.,  of  power  to  apply  the  experience  of  the  past  to  the 
anticipation  of  the  future." — Dr.  Carpenter. 

2  "  It  is  now  universally  acknowledged  that  intellectual  power 
depends  upon  the  size,  quality,  and  convolutions  of  the  brain  ;  and 
it  is  further  known  how  small  a  cerebral  change  may  convert  genius 
into  madness." — Dr.  Cunningham.  "An  inflammation  of  the  brain 
causes  delirium  or  mania  ;  an  extravasation  of  blood,  stupefaction 
and  unconsciousness  ;  a  permanent  pressure  upon  the  brain,  weak- 
ness of  intellect,  idiocy,  &c." — Buchner.  "  The  grey  matter  of  the 
hemisphere  is  associated  with  the  manifestation  of  intelligence  in  its 
various  forms.  ...  If  the  grey  matter  be  suddenly  injured  or  sub- 
mitted to  compression,  as  by  a  blow,  causing  fracture  and  depression 
of  a  portion  of  the  skull,  or  the  effusion  of  fluid  consequent  on 
inflammation,  unconsciousness  is  a  certain  result.  So  long  as  the 
pressure  continues  there  is  no  consciousness  ;  if  it  be  removed 
consciousness  may  soon  return." — Prof.  M'Kendrick.  "Who  could 
have  believed  that  the  hemispheres  may  be  pricked,  torn,  cut,  and  even 
burnt  by  the  actual  cautery  in  the  living  animal  without  producing 
the  slightest  feeling ;  yet  all  observation  and  experience  concur  in 
proving  that  this  is  unquestionably  the  fact." — Magendie.  "  When 


THE  BODY.  103 

control  over  nearly  all  the  actions  of  the  physical  frame. 
The  grey  matter  here,  as  in  other  parts  of  the  nervous 
system,  is  doubtless  the  source  of  nervous  power,  while 
the  white  fibrous  matter  serves  to  conduct  impressions. 
The  external  position  of  the  grey  matter  here,  contrary 
to  the  general  arrangement  in  nerve  centres,  admits  of 
its  being  abundantly  supplied  with  blood,  and  also 
affords  a  freer  and  more  extensive  communication  with 
the  nerve  fibres.  It  is  estimated  that  there  are  from 
600,000,000  to  1,200,000,000  of  nerve  cells  in  the  brain 
for  the  generation  of  nerve  force,  and  the  moulding, 
fashioning,  and  storing  up  of  our  ideas,  each  having  a 
separate  existence,  but  all  acting  in  subordination  to 
the  requirements  of  the  organs.  They  are  connected 
together  by  probably  from  4,000,000,000  to  5,000,000,000 
of  fibres  which  convey  impressions  from  one  to  another 
and  bring  them  into  combined  action.1  The  fibres 

the  hemispheres  are  removed  the  following  results  are  observed  : 
First,  the  two  higher  senses,  sight  and  hearing,  are  lost.  Secondly, 
memory  and  all  the  powers  characteristic  of  intellect  or  thought 
are  abolished.  Thirdly,  volition,  in  the  shape  of  purpose  and  fore- 
thought, is  extinguished.  .  .  .  Fourthly,  there  is  still  a  power  of 
accomplishing  many  connected  movements.  An  animal  may  walk, 
swim,  or  fly,  but  there  is  no  tendency  to  begin  these  actions.  Fifthly, 
there  remains  an  inferior  form  of  the  sensibility  of  the  three  lower 
senses,  touch,  taste,  and  smell.  By  stimuli  applied  to  these  senses 
reflex  movements  may  be  excited." — Prof.  Bain. 

1  Professor  Bain  estimates  that  the  number  of  cells  in  the  grey 
covering  of  the  hemispheres  may  amount  to  1,200,000,000.  "As 
every  cell  is  united  with  at  least  two  fibres,  often  many  more,  we 
may  multiply  this  number  by  four  for  the  number  of  connecting 
fibres  attached  to  the  mass,  which  gives  4,800,000,000  fibres.  Assume 
the  respective  numbers  to  be  (corpuscles)  1,000,000,000  and  (fibres) 
5,000,000,000,  and  make  our  comparison  with  our  acquisitions  as 
follows  : — With  a  total  of  50,000  acquisitions  evenly  spread  over  the 
whole  of  the  hemispheres,  there  would  be  for  each  nervous  grouping 
at  the  rate  of  20,000  cells  and  100,000  fibres.  With  a  total  of  200,000 
acquisitions  of  the  assumed  types,  which  would  certainly  include  the 
most  retentive  and  most  richly  endowed  minds,  there  would  be  for 
each  nervous  grouping  5,000  cells  and  25,000  fibres."  Hence  "  there 


104  MEMORY. 

which  proceed  to  the  optic  thalami  and  corpora  striata 
form  the  means  of  communication  between  the  cerebrum 
and  the  other  parts  of  the  body. 

The  cerebellum,  or  little  brain,  is  situated  under  the 
posterior  lobes  of  the  cerebrum,  or  brain  proper,  at  the 
base  of  the  skull.  It  consists  of  an  elongated  central 
body,  called  the  vermiform  process,  and  two  large 
lateral  masses  termed  hemispheres.  It  is  composed  of 
white  and  grey  matter,  the  latter  being  arranged  in  the 
form  of  laminae  on  the  surface  of  the  lobes  into  which 
it  is  divided.  When  cut  across  it  presents  somewhat 
of  the  form  of  a  tree,  the  internal  white  matter  forming 
the  stalks  and  the  grey  matter  the  leaves,  and  hence  it 
has  been  termed  arbor  vitce,  or  the  tree  of  life.  Besides 
the  grey  matter  on  the  surface,  there  is  near  the  centre 
of  each  hemisphere  a  small  capsule  of  grey  matter 
enclosing  white  matter  in  its  interior,  called  the  corpus 
dentatum.  Three  pairs  of  crura,  peduncles,  or  tracts 
of  fibres,  connect  the  cerebellum  with  the  cerebrum,  the 
medulla  oblongata,  and  the  pons  varolii  respectively. 
The  cerebellum  is  generally  regarded  by  physiologists 
as  the  seat  of  the  muscular  sense,  regulating  and  com- 
bining the  different  movements  of  the  muscles,  and 
informing  the  mind  of  their  various  states  and 
positions.1 

is  no  improbability  in  supposing  an  independent  nervous  track  for 
each  separate  acquisition". 

1  "  One  office  of  the  cerebellum  is  to  combine  the  action  of  the  volun- 
tary muscles  for  the  purpose  of  locomotion." — Sir  B.  Brodie.  "  The 
cerebellum  co-ordinates  movements  guided  by  vision,  or  combines 
the  general  movements  of  the  body  rendered  necessary  by  special 
actions  ordered  by  volition." — Dr.  Bastian.  "  Galvanic  irritation, 
according  to  Ferrier,  caused  movements  of  the  eyeballs  and  other 
movements  indicative  of  vertigo.  ...  In  conclusion,  therefore,  it 
may  be  stated  that  the  function  of  the  cerebellum  is  to  co-ordinate 
the  muscular  movement  of  the  eye-balls  with  reference  to  binocular 
vision  and  of  the  muscles  generally  in  locomotion;  but  the 


THE  BODY.  105 

The  corpora  quadrigemina  are  four  rounded  masses 
situated  near  the  cerebellum,  with  which  they  are  con- 
nected by  the  superior  peduncles  of  that  organ.  They 
are  also  connected  with  the  optic  thalami  in  front. 
The  two  anterior  are  the  nates,  the  two  posterior  the 
testes.  They  are  generally  regarded  as  the  centre  of  the 
sense  of  sight, — their  destruction  producing  blindness. 
Each  is  composed  of  white  substance  on  the  surface 
and  grey  matter  underneath.  Lying  in  front  of  and 
between  the  nates,  and  connected  with  the  optic  tha- 
lami by  two  small  peduncles,  is  a  small  mass  of  grey 
matter  about  the  size  of  a  small  cherry  stone,  called 
the  pineal  gland,  and  noted  as  being  the  part  considered 
by  Descartes  to  be  the  seat  of  the  soul. 

The  optic  thalami  and  corpora  striata  are  four  large 
bodies  composed  of  white  and  grey  matter,  situated  at 
the  base  of  the  cerebrum,  and  from  which  fibres  radiate 
to  the  convolutions  on  the  surface  of  that  organ.  The 
optic  thalami  are  two  large,  firm,  oblong  bodies  nearly 
an  inch  and  a  half  long  and  three-fourths  of  an  inch 
wide  and  deep.  Anteriorly  they  are  connected  with 
the  corpora  striata,  and  posteriorly  by  small  peduncles 
with  the  pineal  gland  and  the  nates.  The  corpora 
striata  are  two  pear-shaped  bodies,  obtuse  and  ap- 
proaching each  other  in  front,  but  becoming  smaller 
and  receding  from  each  other  as  they  extend  back- 
wards. When  laid  open  the  grey  matter  is  seen  to  be 
streaked  with  white,  whence  the  name. 

These  bodies  are  sometimes  termed  the  cerebral 
ganglia,  and  are  regarded  by  Dr.  Carpenter  as  the 
true  sensorium,  or  that  portion  of  the  brain  through 
which  the  mind  becomes  conscious  not  only  of  sensa- 

mechanism  by  which  this  is  accomplished   is  unknown," — Pro/, 

M'Kendrick.   ' 


106  MEMORY. 

tions,  but  also  of  its  own  intellectual  operations, — the 
cerebrum,  in  his  view,  being  destitute  of  consciousness 
as  it  is  of  sensation.  Nearly  all  the  fibres  that  connect 
the  cerebrum  with  the  medulla  oblongata,  and  so  with 
the  spinal  cord  and  the  different  parts  of  the  body,  pass 
through  these  ganglia.  The  fibres  passing  through  the 
optic  thalami  are  sensory,  while  those  passing  through 
the  corpora  striata  are  motor.  M.  Luys  distinguishes 
four  small  isolated  ganglia  of  grey  matter  situated  in  a 
line,  one  behind  another,  in  each  thalainus.  The  first 
of  these,  the  anterior  and  most  prominent,  he  regards 
as  connected  with  the  sense  of  smell ;  the  second  with 
sight ;  the  third  with  sensibility ;  and  the  fourth  with 
hearing.1  The  motor  action  of  each*  of  the  corpora 
striata  passes  to  the  muscles  of  the  opposite  side  of 
the  body,  the  decussation  taking  place  in  the  medulla 
oblongata.2 

1  "  From  a  physiological  standpoint  the  optic  thalami  are  inter- 
mediary regions  interposed  between  the  purely  reflex  phenomena  of 
the  spinal  cord  and  the  activities  of  psychical  life.     By  their  isolated 
and  independent  ganglions  they  serve  as  points  of  condensation  for 
each  order  of  sensorial  impressions  that  finds  in  their  network  of 
cells  a  place  of  passage  and  a  field  for  transformation.  .  .  .  These 
are  then  the  sole  and  unique  open  gates  by  which  all  stimuli  from 
without,  destined  to  serve  a  pabulum  vitce  for  these  same  cortical 
cells,  pass,  and  the  only  means  of  communication  by  which  the 
regions  of  psychical  activity  come  into  contact  with  the  external 
world." — J.  Luys. 

2  "  The  corpus  striatum  is  the  motor  ganglion  for  the  entire  oppo- 
site half  of  the  body.     It  translates  volitions  into  actions  or  puts  in 
execution  the  commands  of  the  intellect ;  that  is,  it  selects,  so  to 
speak,  the  motor  nerve  nuclei  in  the  medulla  and  cord  appropriate 
for  the  performance  of  the  desired  action,  and  sends  down  the  im- 
pulses which  set  them  in  motion.     These  impulses  are  transmitted 
through  fibres,  and  the  fibres  must  start  from  cell-processes  in  the 
corpus  striatum.     A  given  movement  therefore  must  be  represented 
in  the  corpus  striatum  by  a  group  or  groups  of  cells  giving  off  down- 
ward processes  which  become  fibres  of  the  motor  tract  of  the  cord." — 
Dr.  Pastian.     The   corpus  striatum  "is  a  common  territory,  into 
which  the  cerebral,  eerebellar,  and  spinal  activities  come  in  successioD 


THE  BODY.  107 

Two  short,  thick,  rounded  cords  called  the  crura 
cerebri  connect  the  optic  thalami  and  the  corpora 
striata  with  the  pons  varolii.  They  are  composed 
chiefly  of  white  fibres,  but  have  in  the  interior  a  semi- 
lunar  mass  of  dark-grey  matter.  The  inferior  or  more 
superficial  fibres  are  continuous  with  those  of  the 
anterior  pyramids  of  the  medulla  oblongata,  and  the 
superior  or  deeper  with  the  lateral  and  posterior  pyra- 
midal tracts  and  the  olivary  fasciculus.  The  crura 
cerebri  are  regarded  principally  as  conducting  organs. 

The  pons  varolii  occupies  a  comparatively  small  part 
of  the  encephalon,  and  is  situated  above  and  in  front 
of  the  medulla  oblongata,  with  which  it  is  continuous. 
It  is  composed  of  transverse  and  longitudinal  white 
fibres,  interspersed  with  a  quantity  of  diffused  grey 
matter.  The  transverse  fibres,  with  few  exceptions, 
communicate  with  the  cerebellum  by  means  of  the 
middle  crura  or  peduncles,  while  the  longitudinal  fibres 
connect  the  medulla  oblongata  with  the  cerebrum.  Its 
purpose  is  evidently  to  conduct  impressions  from  one 
part  to  another. 

The  medulla  oblongata  is  mostly  contained  within  the 
cavity  of  the  cranium,  but  also  partly  in  the  spinal 

to  be  combined.  ...  It  is  in  the  midst  of  its  tissues  that  the  in- 
fluence of  volition  is  first  received  at  the  moment  when  it  emerges 
from  the  depths  of  the  psycho-motor  centres  of  the  cerebral  cortex. 
There  it  makes  its  first  halt  in  its  descending  evolution,  and  enters 
into  a  more  intimate  relation  with  the  organic  substratum  destined 
to  produce  its  external  manifestations — in  one  word,  materialises 
itself.  From  this  moment  it  comes  into  intimate  contact  with  the 
iunervation  radiating  from  the  cerebellum,  and  it  is  now  no  longer 
itself,  no  longer  the  simple  purely  psycho-motor  stimulus  it  was  at 
its  origin.  It  is  associated  with  this  new  influence  which  gives  it 
somatic  force  and  continuity  of  action.  It  then  passes  out  of  the 
brain  by  means  of  the  peduncular  fibres,  combined  with  a  new  ele- 
ment, and  pursuing  its  centrifugal  course,  it  is  finally  extinguished 
here,  thereby  setting  in  motion  the  different  groups  of  cells  of  the 
spinal  axis,  whose  dynamic  properties  it  thus  evokes." — J. 


108  MEMORY. 

oolumn,  and  forms  the  connection  between  the  cord 
and  the  encephalon.  It  is  somewhat  pyramidal  in 
form,  tapering  towards  its  connection  with  the  spinal 
cord,  and  is  partially  divided  into  two  lateral  and 
symmetrical  halves  by  an  anterior  and  posterior  fis- 
sure, as  is  the  case  with  the  cord.  It  is  composed  of 
both  white  and  grey  matter,  the  former  being  arranged 
partly  in  external  columns  and  partly  in  fasciculi  tra- 
versing the  inner  grey  matter,  which  is  variously 
disposed  in  masses  and  laminae.  The  columns  are 
continuous  with  those  of  the  cord,  but  are  more  pro- 
minent, and  separated  by  deeper  grooves,  and  increase 
in  size  as  they  proceed  towards  the  brain.  The  anterior 
columns  receive  the  name  of  che  anterior  pyramids,  the 
posterior  that  of  the  restiform  bodies;  and  at  the  pos- 
terior part  of  the  latter,  immediately  on  each  side  of 
the  posterior  median  fissure,  u  small  tract  is  marked 
off  by  a  slight  groove,  and  named  the  posterior  pyramids 
Near  the  upper  part  of  each  of  the  two  lateral  columns 
is  a  small  oval  mass  of  grey  matter  called  thf  olivary 
lody.  "  The  anterior  pyramid  of  each  side,  although 
mainly  composed  of  continuations  of  the  fibres  of  the 
anterior  columns  of  the  spinal  cord,  receives  fibres 
from  the  lateral  columns  both  of  its  own  and  the  oppo- 
site side.  .  .  .  Thus  composed,  the  anterior  pyramidal 
fibres,  proceeding  onwards  to  the  brain,  are  distributed 
in  the  following  manner :  1.  The  greater  part  pass  on 
through  the  pons  varolii  to  the  cerebrum.  A  portion 
of  the  fibres,  however,  running  apart  from  the  others, 
joins  some  fibres  from  the  olivary  body,  and  unites 
with  them  to  form  what  is  called  the  olivary  fasciculus 
or  fillet.  2.  A  small  tract  of  fibres  proceeds  to  the 
cerebellum.  The  lateral  column  on  each  side  of  the 
medulla,  in  proceeding  upwards,  divides  into  three 


THE   BODY.  109 

parts — outer,  inner,  and  middle,  which  are  thus  dis- 
posed of:  1.  The  outer  fibres  go  with  the  restiform 
tract  to  the  cerebellum.  2.  The  middle  decussate 
across  the  middle  line  with  their  fellows,  and  form  the 
chief  part  of  the  anterior  pyramid  of  the  opposite  side. 
3.  The  inner  pass  on  to  the  cerebrum  along  the  floor 
of  the  fourth  ventricle  on  each  side,  under  the  name  of 
the  fasciculus  teres.  The  fibres  of  the  restiform  body 
receive  some  small  contributions  from  both  the  lateral 
and  anterior  columns  of  the  medulla,  and  proceed 
chiefly  to  the  cerebrum,  but  that  small  part  behind 
called  the  posterior  pyramid  is  continued  with  the 
fasciculus  teres  of  each  side  along  the  floor  of  the 
fourth  ventricle  to  the  cerebrum." — Kirkes*  Physiology. 
The  functions  of  the  medulla  oblongata  are  similar 
to  those  of  the  spinal  cord,  but  it  has  others  in  addi- 
tion of  the  greatest  importance.  It  contains  tracts  of 
sensory  and  motor  fibres,  as  well  as  a  series  of  reflex 
centres  for  special  movements.  Among  these  last  is 
the  centre  which  regulates  the  respiratory  movements, 
an  injury  to  which,  by  stopping  respiration,  produces 
instant  death ;  which  the  removal  of  the  entire  brain 
above,  or  of  the  cord  below,  does  not  effect.1  The 

1  "  The  most  important  function  of  the  medulla  is  to  cause  and  to 
regulate  the  respiratory  movements,  and  the  point  in  which  the 
respiratory  centre  is  situated  is  called  the  vital  knot.  The  same 
organ  also  regulates  the  heart's  action.  The  medulla  is  also  the 
centre  of  action  for  the  bloodvessels.  The  insensible  perspiration 
of  the  skin  is  likewise  under  its  influence.  The  movements  of 
swallowing,  which  require  for  their  proper  execution  a  co-ordinated 
Action  of  the  lips,  tongue,  palate,  and  gullet,  are  likewise  under  the 
immediate  influence  of  the  medulla.  The  same  organ  contains  a 
centre  for  the  physiognomical  play  of  the  muscles  of  the  face,  and 
another  for  articulate  speech — that  is,  the  pronunciation  of  vowels 
and  consonants  in  such  fashion  as  to  form  words.  All  these  different 
functions  of  the  medulla  are  automatical  or  mechanical — that  is, 
independent  of  volition,  intelligence,  or  any  other  of  the  higher 
mental  processes — and  they  may  therefore  continue  where  the  higher 


110  MEMOBY. 

motor  fibres  occur  chiefly  in  the  anterior  pyramids, 
and  here  cross  or  decussate,  so  that  disease  or  injury 
affecting  the  motor  fibres  of  one  hemisphere  of  the 
brain  causes  paralysis  of  motion  on  the  opposite  side 
of  the  body.  Those  supplying  the  face  cross  in  the 
pons  varolii.  Eegarding  the  transmission  of  sensory 
impressions  nothing  is  known  with  certainty. 

The  cerebrum  and  other  parts  within  the  cranium 
are  enveloped  in  three  membranes — the  dura  mater, 
the  arachnoid  membrane,  and  the  pia  mater.  The 
first  of  these,  which  is  the  outermost,  is  of  great  den- 
sity and  firmness,  its  component  fibres  interlacing  each 
other  in  all  directions.  The  inner  surface  is  smooth 
and  shining,  while  the  outer,  which  adheres  to  the 
bones  of  the  cranium,  is  rough  and  irregular.  The 
membrane  sends  out  several  folds  or  processes  which 

centres  in  the  brain  have  been  either  experimentally  removed  or 
disorganised  by  disease." — Dr.  Althaus.  It  "  receives  directly  the 
auditory  impressions,  the  impressions  of  taste,  and  indirectly, 
through  the  corpora  quadrigemina,  is  affected  by  visual  impressions; 
meanwhile  sending  impulses  to  the  various  muscles  of  the  eyes,  the 
face,  the  jaws,  and  the  mouth.  By  it  the  movements  of  all  four 
limbs  are  combined  in  joint  acts  ;  and  by  simultaneously  regulating 
them  it  makes  the  head  and  jaws  co-operate  with  the  limbs.  The 
various  impressions  and  muscular  motions  implied  by  the  act  of 
swallowing  it  brings  into  due  relation.  Eeceiving  the  respiratory 
stimulus,  it  emits  the  stimuli  to  those  muscles  which  enlarge  and 
diminish  the  thoracic  cavity,  so  causing  inspiration  and  expiration  ; 
and  as  a  consequence  it  is  the  centre  which,  disturbed  by  the  more 
violent  irritations  of  the  respiratory  surface,  sends  out  to  the  respi- 
ratory muscles  those  more  violent  impulses  which  cause  coughing 
and  sneezing,  to  which  may  be  added,  as  actions  belonging  to  the 
eame  class,  crying  and  yawning.  Lastly,  through  the  pneumogastric 
nerve,  it  controls  the  action  of  the  heart  and  the  actions  of  other 
viscera.  .  .  .  This  is  not  all.  Being  the  centre  which  initiates  and 
directs  involved  and  extensive  bodily  actions,  entailing  rapid  expen- 
diture, it  is  the  centre  in  which  the  demand  for  materials  is  indi- 
cated ;  and  hence  it  becomes  the  regulator  of  the  circulation,  of  the 
aeration  of  the  blood,  and  of  the  visceral  actions  generally."— 
H.  Spencer. 


THE  BODY.  Ill 

descend  between  certain  portions  of  the  brain  to  sup- 
port or  protect  them.  The  principal  of  these  are  the 
falx  cerebri,  which  extends  from  the  fore  to  the  back 
part  of  the  skull,  passing  into  the  great  longitudinal 
fissure  which  separates  the  two  hemispheres  of  the 
cerebrum ;  the  tentorium  cerebelli,  extending  across  the 
back  part  of  the  skull,  and  separating  the  cerebrum 
from  the  cerebellum;  and  the  falx  cerebelli,  passing 
down  between  the  two  lobes  of  the  cerebellum.  The 
second  or  middle  of  the  three  membranes  is  an  ex- 
tremely thin  and  delicate  substance  called  the  arachnoid, 
from  its  fancied  resemblance  to  a  spider's  web.  It 
closely  lines  the  dura  mater  through  its  whole  extent, 
and  is  reflected  upon  the  pia  mater,  with  which  it  is 
everywhere  in  contact,  in  some  parts  closely,  in  others, 
especially  at  the  base  of  the  brain,  very  loosely.  The 
pia  mater,  or  innermost  covering  of  the  brain,  is  a  deli- 
cate vascular  membrane,  which  closely  envelops  the 
encephalic  mass,  dipping  down  between  all  the  convo- 
lutions, following  them  in  their  windings,  and  lining 
even  the  minutest  fissures.  It  is  richly  supplied  with 
bloodvessels,  which  ramify  upon  its  surface,  and  send 
minute  branches  into  the  grey  substance  of  the  brain. 

The  quantity  of  blood  that  proceeds  to  the  brain  is 
very  great,  being  estimated  at  one-fifth  or  one-sixth 
part  of  the  entire  amount  contained  in  the  body.1 
Special  provisions  are  also  made  to  prevent  any  irregu- 

1  "  It  is  calculated  that  the  brain  of  man  receives  about  a  fifth  or 
a  sixth  of  the  whole  blood  in  circulation  ;  although  its  weight  is  not 
more  than  a  fortieth  or  fiftieth  part  of  that  of  the  entire  body."- 
Dr.  Carpenter.  "The  functional  activity  of  the  brain  depends  on 
the  copious  supply  of  arterial  blood.  It  is  computed  that  one-fifth  of 
the  whole  quantity  in  circulation  is  sent  to  this  organ." — Dr.  Draper. 
"  It  has  been  computed  that  five  times  as  much  blood  circulates  in 
the  grey  or  corpuscular  substance  as  in  the  white  or  fibrous  tub- 
•tance." — Prof.  Bain, 


112  MEMORY. 

larities  or  interruption  of  the  supply,  for  such  is  the 
importance  and  delicacy  of  this  organ  that  any  great 
increase  in  the  quantity  of  blood  sent  to  it,  or  any 
interruption  of  the  supply,  would  result  in  immediate 
death.  There  are  four  large  arterial  trunks  which 
serve  to  convey  the  blood  to  the  brain — the  two  inter- 
nal carotids  and  the  two  vertebral.  So  large  are  these 
vessels,  and  so  ample  their  means  of  intercommuni- 
cation, that  even  if  the  circulation  in  one  of  them  be 
impeded  or  stopped,  the  others  may  supply  its  place 
with  little  diminution  of  the  general  flow.  The  veins 
do  not  accompany  the  arteries  here,  as  in  other  parts 
of  the  body,  but  are  widely  dispersed,  and  ultimately 
form  large,  tortuous  canals. 

From  the  position  of  the  brain  in  the  interior  of  a 
hard,  bony  case,  it  is  evident  that  any  sudden  increase 
in  its  volume,  either  from  an  over-supply  of  blood  or 
any  other  cause,  would  be  productive  of  very  serious 
consequences  to  its  delicate  structure,  were  not  special 
provision  made  in  order  to  meet  it.  This  is  done  by 
means  of  a  fluid  which  exists  between  the  layers  of  the 
arachnoid  membrane  in  the  brain  and  spinal  cord, 
known  as  the  cerebro-spinal  fluid.  The  amount  usually 
averages  about  2  oz.,  but  in  cases  of  atrophy  or 
wasting  of  the  brain  as  much  as  12  oz.  may  be 
found,  while  in  cases  where  the  brain  has  undergone 
an  increase  there  is  either  a  diminution  or  a  total 
absence  of  this  fluid.  Its  presence  also  doubtless  has 
the  effect  of  preventing  an  undue  expansion  of  the 
bloodvessels. 

The  weight  of  the  entire  mass  of  brain  differs  con- 
siderably in  different  individuals.  In  the  adult  male 
it  usually  ranges  between  40  and  60  oz.,  the  average 
being  about  50,  but  in  some  cases  it  reaches  as  high  as 


THE  BODY.  113 

64  or  65,  and  in  others  it  is  as  low  as  33  or  34  oz. 

In  the  adult  female  the  weight  usually  ranges  from  36 
to  50  oz.,  the  average  being  about  45,  but  it  has  been 
found  as  high  as  56  and  as  low  as  31.  In  cases  of 
idiocy  the  amount  is  sometimes  much  below  this,  and 
as  low  a  weight  as  20  oz.  has  been  recorded.1  The 
average  weight  of  the  brain  in  proportion  to  that  of  the 
body  is  about  1  to  36.  As  regards  the  weight  of  different 
parts  of  the  brain,  the  cerebrum  averages  in  the  adult 
male  nearly  44  oz.,  and  in  the  adult  female  38|;  the 
cerebellum  in  the  male  about  5  J,  and  in  the  female  about 
4f ;  the  pons  varolii  and  medulla  oblongata  together 
about  1  oz.,  being  rather  larger  in  the  female  than  in 
the  male. 

Physiologists  differ  as  to  the  time  when  the  brain 
attains  its  full  size.  Sir  "William  Hamilton  and  others 
place  it  as  early  as  the  seventh  or  eighth  year.  Gall 
and  Spurzheim,  and  phrenologists  generally,  maintain 
that  the  brain  continues  to  grow  till  about  the  fortieth 
year,  and  this  appears  to  be  nearest  the  truth.  "It 
appears  that  in  general  the  weight  of  the  brain  increases 
rapidly  up  to  the  seventh  year,  then  more  slowly  to 
between  sixteen  and  twenty,  and  again  more  slowly  to 
between  thirty-one  and  forty,  at  which  time  it  reaches 
its  maximum  point.  Beyond  this  period  there  appears 

1  "  When  the  weight  of  the  brain  falls  below  a  certain  minimum 
standard,  the  possession  by  its  owner  of  anything  like  ordinary 
human  intelligence  seems  to  be  impossible.  Gratiolet,  without 
specifying  the  sex,  supposed  this  lower  limit  of  weight  to  be  about 
31 1  oz.  Broca  places  it  somewhat  higher,  fixing  upon  32  oz.  as  the 
limit  for  the  female  and  37  oz.  as  the  lower  limit  of  weight  for  the 
male  brain  compatible  with  ordinary  human  intelligence.  The 
brain- weight  of  idiots  may,  however,  and  frequently  does,  fall  far 
below  the  limits  above  assigned."— Dr.  Bastian.  "It  would  appi'.-ir 
that  in  general  throughout  the  human  race  no  brain  under  30  oz. 
is  sufficient  for  the  exercise  of  its  normal  functions." — Dr.  Allen 
Thomson. 


114  MEMOBY. 

a  slow  but  progressive  diminution  in  weight  of  about 
one  ounce  during  each  subsequent  decennial  period." 
—Quain's  Anatomy.1  We  have  here  a  physiological 
basis  for  what  is  popularly  believed  to  be  a  fact,  that 
the  mind  reaches  its  maximum  about  the  age  of  forty, 
and  that  no  great  work  has  been  accomplished  by 
any  one  after  that  age,  the  basis  of  which  was  not 
laid  before. 

The  spinal  cord  forms  the  means  of  communication 
between  the  brain  and  most  other  parts  of  the  body. 
Through  it  impressions  made  on  the  sensitive  spinal 
nerves  are  conveyed  to  the  brain,  and  through  it,  too, 
the  stimulus  sent  from  the  brain  is  conducted  to  the 
motor  spinal  nerves  in  order  to  excite  the  action  of  the 
muscles.  It  may  also  be  regarded  as  a  series  of  ganglia 
or  nervous  centres  united  together  in  one  continuous 
column.  In  consequence  of  its  continuity  and  its 
direct  connection  with  the  brain,  most  of  its  operations 
are  carried  on  consciously  „  and  are  under  the  control  of 
the  will ;  but  at  the  same  time  each  of  the  nervous 
centres  of  which  it  is  composed  is  capable  of  receiving 
impressions  and  giving  out  stimuli  independently  of  the 
will  or  of  consciousness.2  Hence  if  any  part  of  the 
cord  be  destroyed,  and  communication  with  the  brain 
be  thereby  interrupted,  sensation  and  voluntary  motion 
will  cease  in  those  parts  connected  with  the  cord  below 
the  seat  of  the  injury,  but  the  detached  portion  of  the 

1  "From  forty  to  fifty  years  there  is  a  slight  diminution  in  weight 
and  a  greater  one  between  fifty  and  sixty.    After  sixty  years  the  rate 
of  decrease  is  still  greater- ;  the  process  of  decay  becomes  more  and 
more  rapid,  and  thus  in  the  eighth  decade  of  existence  the  average 
weight  of  the  brain  is  less  by  more  than  3  oz.  than  it  was  in  the 
fourth  decade.     In  the  aged,  on  the  average  the  weight  of  the  brain 
decreases  pari  passu  with  the  intelligence." — Dr  Thurnam. 

2  "  Every  segment  of  the  spinal  cord  may  act  separately  as  an 
independent  centre  ;  every  segment  is  a  little  brain.1' — 6r.  H.  Lewes. 


THE  BODY.  115 

i3ord  will  still  retain  the  properties  of  an  ordinary  nerve 
centre  and  respond  to  stimuli  acting  on  it.1 

The  spinal  cord  is  composed  of  both  white  and  grey 
nervous  matter,  the  former  situated  externally,  and 
constituting  its  chief  portion,  the  latter  disposed  in  the 
interior.  When  the  cord  is  cut  transversely,  the  grey 
substance  is  seen  arranged  in  the  form  of  two  crescental 
masses,  one  occupying  each  lateral  half,  and  the  two 
being  connected  together  by  a  transverse  band  of  the 
same  material.2  The  posterior  horns  are  long  and 
narrow,  and  approach  the  surface,  while  the  anterior 
are  considerably  shorter  and  thicker.  The  cord  is 
divided  longitudinally  into  two  exactly  symmetrical 
halves  by  an  anterior  and  a  posterior  fissure,  the  two 
halves  being  united  in  the  middle  by  a  commissure. 
The  posterior  fissure  is  deeper  but  less  wide  and  distinct 
than  the  anterior.  Each  half  is  marked  on  the  sides 
by  two  longitudinal  furrows  which  divide  it  into  three 
portions  or  columns, — an  anterior,  a  middle  or  lateral, 
and  a  posterior.  The  entire  cord  is,  like  the  brain, 
enveloped  in  three  membranes, — an  outer,  the  dura 
mater ;  an  inner,  the  pia  mater ;  and  the  arachnoid 
membrane  between  the  two. 

The  nerves  of  the  spinal  cord  consist  of  thirty-one 
pairs  issuing  from  the  sides  of  the  cord  through  its  whole 
length,  and  corresponding  in  number  to  the  interverte- 

1  "When  the  spine  is  injured  or  divided  there  are  two  centres, 
and  the  parts  above  are  not  sensitive  to  impressions  on  the  parts 
below  ;  nor  are  the  parts  below  sensitive  to  impressions  on  the  parts 
above  ;  but  each  segment  is  sensitive  to  its  own  affections.  The 
paralytic  man  does  not  feel  the  prick  on  his  leg,  but  his  leg  feels  it." 
• — G.  H.  Lewes. 

8  "  The  cells  are  larger  and  more  numerous  in  the  anterior  grey 
matter  of  the  spinal  cord  than  in  the  posterior.  They  are  of  various 
sizes,  but  remarkably  multipolar  and  intimately  connected  with  each 
other  and  with  the  roots  of  the  spinal  nerves  by  means  of  their 
numerous  branching  processes." — Dr.  Lwyocck* 


116  MBMOBY. 

bral  foramina  through  which  they  pass.  Each  nerve 
arises  by  two  roots,  an  anterior  and  a  posterior,  tho 
latter  being  the  larger.  The  anterior  root  springs  from 
the  groove  between  the  anterior  and  lateral  columns  of 
each  half  of  the  cord,  and  contains  only  efferent  or 
motor  fibres ;  the  posterior  rises  just  in  front  of  the 
groove  between  the  lateral  and  posterior  columns,  and 
consists  entirely  of  afferent  or  sensory  fibres.  "The 
roots  emerge  through  separate  apertures  of  the  sheath 
of  the  dura  mater  surrounding  the  cord,  and  directly 
after  their  emergence,  while  the  roots  lie  in  the  inter- 
vertebral  foramen,  a  ganglion  is  formed  on  the  posterior 
root.  The  anterior  root  lies  in  contact  with  the 
anterior  surface  of  the  ganglion,  but  none  of  its  fibres 
intermingle  with  those  of  the  ganglion.  But  immedi- 
ately beyond  the  ganglion  the  two  roots  coalesce,  and 
by  the  mingling  of  their  fibres  form  a  compound  or 
mixed  spinal  nerve  which,  after  issuing  from  the  inter- 
vertebral  canal,  divides  into  an  anterior  and  posterior 
branch,  each  containing  fibres  from  both  roota'  — 
Kirkes*  Physiology. 

Of  the  root  fibres  of  the  nerves,  some  pass  hori- 
zontally or  obliquely  into  the  substance  of  the  cord, 
while  others  proceed  upwards  u.r  downwards  in  it. 
Many  of  them  may  be  traced  into  the  central  grey 
substance  and  terminate  there  ;  and  the  experiments  of 
Brown-Sequard  make  it  probable  that  the  grey  sub- 
stance is  the  channel  by  which  sensitive  impressions 
are  conducted  to  the  brain.  He  has  shown  that  the 
posterior  columns  are  not,  as  was  previously  generally 
supposed,  the  course  which  they  follow,  but  that  they 
pass  into  the  grey  substance,  through  which  alone,  or 
aided  by  the  anterior  columns,  they  reach  the  brain. 
Further,  he  has  proved  that  impression  are  not  oon- 


THE   BODY.  117 

veyed  along  that  half  of  the  cord  by  which  they  enter, 
but  almost  directly  cross  over  to  the  other,  and  by  this 
pass  to  the  brain.  Thus  it  is  that  division  or  disease  of 
one  posterior  half  of  the  cord  is  followed  by  loss  of  sen- 
sation in  the  parts  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  body. 
The  motor  nerves  also  decussate,  but  this  takes  place, 
not  in  the  cord  itself,  but  in  the  medulla  oblon- 
gata  After  decussation  the  motor  impulses  "  first 
enter  the  cord  by  the  lateral  tracts  and  adjoining  grey 
matter,  and  then  pass  to  the  anterior  columns  and  the 
grey  matter  associated  with  them". — KirJces'  Physiology.1 
There  are  certain  nerves  which  have  their  origin  in 
the  brain,  and  are  hence  commonly  known  as  cerebral 
or  cranial  nerves.  They  are  mostly  connected  with 
the  organs  of  the  senses,  and  are  usually  reckoned  as 
nine  pairs,  although,  strictly  speaking,  the  number  is 
twelve,  the  seventh  forming  two  and  the  eighth  three 
pairs.  They  are  named  numerically  in  the  order  in 
which  they  proceed  from  the  brain.  Tlie  first  pair,  or 
olfactory,  are  connected  with  the  under  surface  of  the 
anterior  cerebral  lobe  by  three  roots,  and,  unlike  other 
nerves,  consist  of  a  large  portion  of  grey  matter  mixed 

1 "  While  motor  influences  descend  through  the  columns  of  the 
cord  on  the  same  side  as  the  roots  of  the  nerves  upon  which  they  act, 
sensory  impressions  (at  least  those  of  pain  and  touch)  ascend  on  the 
opposite  side  from  that  on  which  the  posterior  or  sensory  roots  have 
entered.  Thus  it  appears  that  the  most  of  the  fibres  in  communica- 
tion with  those  of  the  sensory  roots  cross  at  once  to  the  opposite  side 
of  the  cord,  as  may,  indeed,  be  seen  in  the  grey  commissure,  while 
the  motor  fibres  remain  on  the  same  side.  But  at  the  upper  part  of 
the  spinal  marrow,  or  rather  when  they  have  just  entered  the 
medulla  oblongata,  the  motor  columns  suddenly  cross,  in  more  or  less 
divided  bundles  of  iibres,  from  one  side  to  the  other.  This  occurs 
in  the  so-called  decussation  of  the  pyramids,  which  consists  essentially 
in  the  oblique  passage  across  the  middle  plane  of  a  considerable 
part  of  the  lateral  columns  of  the  cord  containing  its  chief  motor 
fibres  into  the  opposite  anterior  pyramids  of  the  medulla  cblongata.1' 
— Dr.  Allen  Thomson. 
10 


MEMOBT. 

with  white  fibres.  Each  nerve  afterwards  swells  out 
into  an  elongated  oval  mass  of  nervous  matter  called 
the  olfactory  lull,  which  rests  upon  the  cribriform  plate  of 
the  ethmoid  bone,  through  which  a  number  of  small 
soft  nerves  descend  to  the  Schneiderian  membrane  of 
the  nose,  the  seat  of  smell.  The  second  pair,  or  optic, 
arise  from  the  optic  thalami,  the  corpora  quadrigemina, 
and  the  corpora  geniculata,  and  meet  each  other  at  tte 
optic  commissure,  where  they  partially  decussate,  the 
outer  fibres  continuing  onwards  to  the  eye  of  the  same 
side,  while  the  inner  cross  over  towards  the  eye  of  the 
opposite  side.  They  then  pass  into  the  orbits,  pene- 
trate the  eyeballs,  and  expand  into  the  retina,  that 
part  of  the  eye  by  which  visible  impressions  are  taken 
up.  The  third  pair,  or  motores  oculi,  have  their  origin 
from  the  inner  surface  of  the  crura  cerebri,  and,  entering 
the  orbits,  are  distributed  to  most  of  the  muscles  that 
move  the  eyeballs.  The  fourth  pair9  or  trochlearis, 
spring  from  the  corpora  quadrigemina,  and  pass  into  the 
orbits  governing  the  movements  of  the  trochlearis  or 
oblique  muscle  of  the  eye.  The  fifth  pair,  trifacial  or 
trigeminal,  arise  from  the  side  of  the  pons  varolii,  each 
by  two  distinct  roots,  as  in  the  spinal  nerves.  The 
larger  and  softer  root,  which  is  sensitive,  enters  the 
Gasserian  ganglion,  from  which  three  branches,  or 
divisions  of  the  nerve  are  given  out.  The  smaller  or 
motor  root  has  no  ganglion,  and  passes  under  the 
Gasserian  ganglion  to  join  the  third  branch  or  division 
wtich  issues  from  it.  The  first  and  second  branches  of 
the  larger  root  are  purely  sensitive.  The  third  branch, 
being  joined  by  the  motor  root  of  the  nerve,  js  of  course 
both  sensitive  and  motor.  The  sensitive  branches 
terminate  in  the  face,  and  communicate  sensibility  to 
that  and  the  fore  part  of  the  head,  as  well  as  to  the 


THE  BODY.  119 

4he  nose,  the  ear,  and  the  mouth,  an3  endow  the 
fore  part  of  the  tongue  with  the  powers  both  of  touch 
and  'taste.  The  third  branch  is  distributed  to  the 
muscles  of  the  jaws,  and  governs  the  movements  of  the 
mastication.  The  sixth  pair,  or  abducent,  have  their 
origin  bet  ween  the  pons  varolii  and  medulla  oblongata, 
receiving  fibres  from  both  parts,  and,  entering  the  orbit, 
are  distributed  to  the  external  rectus  muscle  of  the 
eyeball.  The  seventh  pair  arise  from  the  medulla  oblon- 
gata,  and  are  composed  of  two  parts,  the  portio  dura  and 
the  portio  mollis,  which  are  in  reality  separate  nerves, 
being  distinct  in  their  origin,  distribution,  and  function. 
The  portio  dura,  or  facial,  is  motor,  and  is  distributed  to 
the  different  muscles  of  the  face,  directing  and  regu- 
lating their  movements.  The  portio  mollis,  or  auditory, 
proceeds  to  the  internal  parts  of  the  ear,  and  serves  to 
collect  and  transmit  the  influences  of  sound.  The  eighth 
pair  arise  from  the  medulla  oblongata,  and  are  divided 
into  three  branches, — the  glosso-pharyngeal,  the  par 
vagum,  or  pneumogastric,  and  the  accessory.  The  first 
of  these  is  distributed  to  the  root  of  the  tongue  and 
pharynx,  ministering  to  taste  and  touch,  and  also 
assisting  in  the  act  of  deglutition.  The  par  vagum,  so 
called  from  its  wandering  course,  is  both  sensitive  and 
motor,  and  the  most  widely  distributed  of  the  cranial 
nerves,  sending  branches  to  the  neck,  lungs,  and  stomach. 
It  also  forms  important  connections  with  the  sym- 
pathetic system  of  nerves.  The  accessory  or  spinal 
accessory  nsrve,  so  called  from  originating  partly  in  the 
spinal  cord,  is  motor,  its  principal  branch,  the  external, 
supplying  the  external  muscles  of  respiration,  and  the 
internal  adding  motor  filaments  to  the  par  vagum.  The 
ninth  pair,  or  hypo-glossal,  issue  from  the  medulla  oblon- 
gata, and  are  distributed  to  the  muscles  of  the  tongue, 


120  MEMOEY. 

and  regulate  the  movements  of  that  organ  in  speech 
and  deglutition.  Of  these  nerves  the  olfactory;  pptic, 
auditory,  part  of  the  glosso-pharyngeal,  and  the  sub- 
lingual  branch  of  the  fifth  pair  are  nerves  of  special 
sense ;  and  the  greater  part  of  the  fifth,  and  part  of 
the  glosso-pharyngeal,  are  nerves  of  common  sensation. 
Three  of  the  others,  the  third,  fourth,  and  sixth  pairs, 
are  employed  in  regulating  the  movements  of  the  eye- 
ball. 

Eegarding  the  effects  of  exercise  on  the  different 
parts  of  the  nervous  system,  we  have  not  the  same 
direct  evidence  that  we  have  concerning  other  parts  of 
the  body.  We  cannot  see  in  nerve  as  in  muscle,  for 
instance,  an  increase  in  size,  and  greater  density  and 
firmness,  as  the  result  of  exercise,  but  there  can  scarcely 
be  a  doubt  that  such  actually  takes  place.1  All  parts  of 
the  nervous  system  are  known  to  be  most  abundantly 
furnished  with  bloodvessels  for  supplying  them  vrith 
nutritive  materials,  which  shows  that  a  large  measure 
of  waste  is  constantly  taking  place  in  their  substance, 
requiring  to  be  constantly  renewed.2  With  increased 
exertion  we  know  that  the  rate  of  waste  and  renewal  is 

1  "  Many  circumstances  lead  to  the  conclusion  that  in  the  nervous, 
as  in  the  muscular  system,  every  vital  operation  is  necessarily  con- 
nected with  a  certain  change  of  composition,  so  that  no  manifestation 
of  nervous  power  can  take  place  unless  this  change  can  be  effected.* 
— Dr.  Carpenter. 

2  "  Living  tissues  are  in  a  state  of  continuous  molecular  renova- 
tion, nervous  tissue  more  than  any  other,  and  in  nervous  tissue  the 
grey  substance  more  than  the  white  substance,  as  is  shown  by  the 
excessive  abundance  of  bloodvessels  with  which  the  former  is  lined. 
Since  the  modifications  are  persistent,  the  new  material,  the  arrange- 
ment of  the  molecules,  must  exactly  reproduce  the  type  which  they 
replace." — Th.  Ribot.     "  There  is  no  part  of  the  organism  of  man  in 
which  the  reconstructive  activity  is  so  great  during  the  whole  period 
of  life  as  it  is  in  the  ganglionic  substance  of  the  brain.   ...   It  is, 
moreover,  a  fact  of  great  significance  that  the  nerve  substance  if 
specially  distinguished  by  its  reparative  power." — Dr.  Carpenter. 


THE   BODY.  121 

much  accelerated.1  Further,  we  know  that  the  effects 
of  well-directed  exercise  are  the  same  here  as  in  other 
parts  of  the  body,  producing  increased  power,  skill,  and 
dexterity,  so  that  what  was  at  first  difficult  becomes 
more  and  more  easy  by  practice,  till  at  length  it  may 
come  to  be  a  second  nature.  This  holds  true  in  the 
region  of  thought  not  less  than  in  outward  action.2 
Hence  there  is  every  reason  to  believe  that  the  effects 
of  exercise  upon  the  nervous  system  are  exactly  the 
same  as  upon  other  parts  of  the  body,  producing  first 
waste  of  substance,  followed  by  an  increased  supply  of 
nutritive  material  by  which  the  part  is  enlarged  in  size, 
and  acquires  greater  firmness  and  fineness  of  texture, 
becoming  thus  more  suited  for  the  performance  of  its 
special  work8  Thus  we  have  in  judicious  exercise  the 


1  "  The  nervous  substance  is  distinguished  from  all  the  other 
tissues  by  the  very  large  proportion  of  phosphorus  which  enters  into 
its  composition  .  .  .  and  one  result  of  over-exercise  of  the  nervous 
system  is  the  elimination  of  an  unusual  quantity  of  salts  containing 
phosphorus  by  means  of  the  secretion  of  the  kidneys." — Sir  B.  Brodie. 
"  Sustained  intellectual  work  is  accompanied  by  a  loss  of  phospho- 
rised  substance  on  the  part  of  the  cerebral  cell  in  vibration,"  and 
"becomes  at  the  same  time  the  occasion  of  a  local  development  of 
heat  .  .  .  appreciable  by  the  instruments  of  the  physical  laboratory w. 
— J.  Luys.  "  Mosso  has  invented  a  method  of  registering  the  effect 
of  thought  on  the  circulation.  He  finds  ideation  accompanied  by 
a  contraction  of  the  peripheral  vessels  proportionate  to  the  degree  of 
intellectual  effort.  A  young  man  translating  Greek  showed  greater 
contraction  than  when  he  was  translating  Latin." — G.  H.  Lewes. 
"  It  is  only  by  supposing  an  idea  to  be  accompanied  by  a  correlative 
change  in  the  nerve  cells  that  we  can  explain  the  exhaustion  follow- 
ing excessive  mental  work,  and  the  breaking  down  of  the  brain  in 
extreme  cases." — Dr.  Maudsley. 

2 "  We  train  the  muscles  by  exercise,  and  so  we  may  train  the 
different  organs  of  the  brain  by  proper  exercise  also,  by  intellectual 
work,  by  strengthening  the  power  of  the  will,  and  by  the  regulation 
of  our  emotions." — Prof.  MlKendrick. 

*  "...  All  this  leads  us  to  the  view  taken  by  Muller  and  Engel, 
that  the  shape  of  the  skull  is  everywhere  essentially  dependent  on 
mental  culture,  and  changes  with  it" — Dr.  Waitz.  "The  braiu 


122  MEMOEY. 

means  of  strengthening  and  improving  the  different 
parts  of  the  nervous  system,  and  overcoming  weak- 
nesses or  tendencies  to  disease.1  On  the  other  hand, 
"  continued  repose  of  a  nerve/1  says  Dr.  Hermann, 
"  diminishes  and  destroys  its  irritability,  and  tends  at 
last  to  fatty  degeneration". 

In  order  to  form  some  idea  of  the  immense  number 
of  elements  concerned  in  effecting  even  common  move- 
ments, let  us  take  locomotion.  "  Is  the  starting-point 
an  act  of  volition?"2  asks  M.  Eibot.  "Then  the 

grows  to  the  mode  in  which  it  is  habitually  worked,  just  as  the 
mechanism  of  our  bodily  movement  shapes  itself  to  the  work  we 
habitually  call  on  it  to'  perform." — Dr.  Carpenter.  "  Mr.  Webster 
told  one  of  our  greatest  scholars  that  he  had  to  change  the  size  of  his 
hat  every  few  years.  His  head  grew  larger  as  his  intellect  expanded. 
Illustrations  of  this  same  fact  were  shown  me  many  years  ago  by  Mr. 
Deville,  the  famous  phrenologist,  in  London." — 0.  W.  Holmes. 

1  "  The  judicious  exercise  and  cultivation  of  the  mental  faculties 
during  youth,  or  at  least  of  such  as  are  most  obviously  developed, 
will  actually  gradually  increase  the  dimensions,  and  improve  the 
qualities,  strength,  and  powers  of  the  brain,  and  generally  all  the 
organs  of  intellect,  in  like  manner  as  the  muscular  powers  are  by 
their  due  exercise  strengthened  and  improved." — Bostock :  Physiology. 

2  "  In  the  first  state  of  its  outward  course,  it  (i.e.,  voluntary  motor 
power)  insensibly  loses  its  original  character  of  a  purely  psychical 
excitation  to  incorporate  itself  more  and  more  with  the  organism,  to 
materialise  itself  in  a  manner,  and  increase  its  dynamic  power  by  the 
addition  of  a  new  nervous  element — the  cerebellar  innervation,  which, 
in  the  condition  of  a  static  force  in  permanent  tension,  is  incessantly 
distributed  in  the  plexuses  of  the  corpus  striatum.     Thus  reinforced, 
it  continues  its  centrifugal  course,  and  by  means  of  the  antero-lateral 
fibres  of  the  axis  (cerebral  peduncles)  it  descends  in  the  form  of  an 
interrupted  current  to  excite  the  dynamic  activity  of  the  different 
motor  nuclei  of  the  spinal  axis,  which,  like  a  series  of  apparatuses 
always  ready  to  enter  into  action,  only  wait  its  arrival  to  deve'jop 

their  latent  activity The  processes  which  produce  voluntary 

motion  pass  in  their  evolution  through  phases  inverse  to  those  of  the 
processes  of  sensibility.     While  these  last  as  they  approach  the 
central  regions  of  the"  sensorium   are  purified  and  made  perfect, 
becoming  more  and  more  intellectualised  by  the  metabolic  action  of 
the  different  nervous  media  through  which  they  are  propagated,  the 
former,  on  the  contrary,  conceived  as  psychical  vibrations  at  the 


THE  BODY.  123 

impulse,  originating,  according  to  Ferrier  in  a  par- 
ticular portion  of  the  cortex,  traverses  the  white  sub- 
stance, reaches  the  corpora  striata,  passes  through  the 
crura  cerebri,  thence  to  the  complicated  structure  of 
the  medulla,  where  it  passes  to  the  other  side  of  the 
body,  descending  the  anterior  columns  of  the  spinal 
cord  to  the  lumbar  region,  and  then  along  the  motor 
nerves  to  the  muscles.  This  transmission  is  followed 
by  a  return  to  the  cerebral  centre  through  the  posterior 
columns  of  the  cord  and  the  grey  matter,  the  medulla, 
the  pons  varolii,  the  optic  tract,  the  white  substance,  to 
the  surface  of  the  hemisphere." l 

Here,  then,  we  have  a  vast  number  of  elements  which 
are  affected,  and  in  which  a  change  is  produced,  by  so 
simple  a  process  as  an^fct  of  locomotion.  This  change 
is  permanent,  and  constitutes,  in  our  view,  the  basis  of 
the  memory  of  it.  In  its  highest  form,  when  we  have 
the  movement  so  clearly  before  the  mind  that  we  seem 
to  be  again  enacting  it,  the  seat  of  the  memory  is  not 
confined  to  the  brain,  but  embraces  the  whole  track 
pursued  by  the  original  action.  "  The  memory  of  an 
apple,"  to  again  quote  M.  Eibot,  "  is  necessarily  a 
weakened  form  of  the  perception  of  an  apple.  What 
does  this  perception  suppose  ?  A  modification  of  the 
complex  structure  of  the  retina,  transmission  by  the 
optic  nerve  through  the  corpora  geniculata  and  the 
tubeicula  quadrigemina  to  the  cerebral  ganglia,  then 
through  the  white  substance  to  the  cortex.  This  sup- 
poses the  activity  of  many  widely-separated  elements. 

moment  of  their  genesis,  amplify  and  are  materialised  more  and  more 
as  they  descend  from  the  superior  regions." — /.  Luys. 

1  "  Whatever  opinion  may  be  held  with  regard  to  the  anatomical 
conditions  of  muscular  sensibility,  it  is  certain  that  the  sensibility 
exists,  and  that  it  makes  known  the  part  of  the  body  participating  in 
a  movement,  and  permits  us  to  regulate  it." — Th.  Eibot, 


124  MEMOBT. 

But  this  is  by  no  means  all.  It  is  not  a  question  of  a 
simple  sensation  of  colour.  "We  see  or  imagine  the 
apple  as  a  solid  object  having  a  spherical  form.  These 
conceptions  result  from  the  exquisite  muscular  sensi- 
bility of  our  visual  apparatus,  and  from  its  movements. 
Now,  the  movements  of  the  eye  are  regulated  by  several 
nerves — the  sympathetic,  the  oculo- motor  and  its 
branches.  Each  of  these  nerves  has  its  own  termina- 
tion, and  is  connected  by  a  devious  course  with  the  outer 
cerebral  layer,  where  the  motor  intuitions,  according  to 
Maudsley,  are  formed.  .  .  .  Take  the  recollection  of  a 
word.  If  it  is  a  written  word  it  is  again  a  question  of 
visual  perception,  and  is  allied  to  the  instance  already 
cited.  But  if  we  take  a  spoken  word,  we  find  the  com- 
plexity equally  great.  Articulate  language  supposes  the 
intervention  of  the  larynx,  the  pharynx,  the  lips,  the 
nasal  fossa,  and  consequently  of  many  nerves  having 
centres  in  different  parts  of  the  brain, — the  spinal,  the 
facial,  and  the  hypoglossal.  If  we  include  auditory  im- 
pressions in  the  memory  of  words,  the,  complication  is 
still  greater.  Then  the  cerebral  centre  must  be  united 
with  Broca's  convolution,  and  the  island  of  Eeil  uni- 
versally considered  as  the  psychical  centre  of  speeqh."1 


1  This  is  well  expressed,  but  he  seems  to  be  led  astray  by  the 
opinion  held  by  medical  men  generally,  that  the  changes  effected  by 
movements  are  confined  to  the  nerve-centres,  for  he  says  in  another 
place  :  "  The  movements  that  are  instigated  or  actuated  by  a  par- 
ticular nervous  centre  do,  like  the  idea,  leave  behind  them  residua 
which,  after  several  repetitions,  become  so  completely  organised  into 
the  nature  of  the  nervous  centre  that  the  movements  may  henceforth 
be  automatic".  In  our  view,  the  changes  through  which  actions 
become  automatic  are  not  effected  merely  in  the  centres,  but  also  in 
the  nerves,  and  especially  in  the  muscles.  "  Every  kind  of  activity 
peculiar  to  a  living  body,"  says  Dr.  Carpenter,  "  involves  a  change  of 
structure,  and  the  formation  of  the  newly-generated  tissue  receives 
such  an  influence  from  the  conditions  under  which  it  originates,  that 
all  its  subsequent  activity  displays  their  impress." 


CHAPTEE  IV. 

THE   SENSES. 

"  If  It  were  possible  for  a  human  being  to  come  into  the  world  with  a  brain 
perfectly  prepared  to  be  the  instrument  of  psychical  operations,  but  with  all  the 
inlets  to  sensations  closed,  we  have  every  reason  to  believe  that  the  mind  would 
remain  dormant  like  a  seed  buried  in  the  earth."  —  Dr.  Carpenter. 

"  That  the  powers  of  the  understanding  would  for  ever  continue  dormant  were 
it  not  for  the  action  of  things  external  on  the  bodily  frame,  is  a  proposition  now 
universally  admitted  by  philosophers."—  Dugald  Stewart. 

"  Apprehension  by  the  senses  supplies  directly  or  indirectly  the  material  of  all 
human  knowledge,  or  at  least  the  stimulus  necessary  to  develop  every  inborn 
faculty  of  the  mind."  —  Helmholtz. 

'*  Even  the  highest  ideas  are  slowly  and  gradually  developed  from  the  accumula- 
tion of  sensual  experience,  and  their  truth  is  only  guaranteed  by  the  possibility  of 
finding  concrete  examples  for  them  in  real  existence."  —  Virchow. 

"  The  activity  of  the  mind  is  just  as  much  the  result  of  its  consciousness  of 
external  impressions,  by  which  its  faculties  are  called  into  play,  as  the  life  of  the 
body  is  dependent  upon  the  appropriation  of  nutrient  materials  and  the  constant 
Influence  of  external  forces."—  Dr.  Carpenter. 

"  As  we  perceive  more  accurately,  so  we  remember  more  correctly,  judge  more 
soundly,  and  imagine  more  truly."—  Dr.  H.  Maudsley. 


senses  are  the  means  by  which  the  mind  ob- 
JL  tains  its  knowledge  of  the  external  world.  Shut 
out  from  all  direct  communication  with  the  outer 
world,  it  knows,  and  can  know,  nothing  of  what  exists 
or  is  passing  there,  but  what  comes  to  it  through  the 
senses.1  Its  knowledge  of  what  is  external  to  itself  is 

1  "We  perceive  no  external  object  but  by  means  of  certain  bodily 
organs,  which  God  has  given  us  for  that  purpose."  —  Dr.  Thos.  Reid. 
"  Our  knowledge  is  limited  to  our  sensibilities.  We  are  able  to 
know  what  things  affect  our  various  sensibilities,  or  what  may  be 
compounded  of  these,  and  our  knowledge  extends  no  farther  "—Prof. 
Bain.  "We  may,  for  want  of  a  better  name,  say  with  Condillac 
that  the  internal  primordial  event  which  constitutes  our  knowledge 
is  sensation."  —  M.  Taine.  "  Knowledge  is  simply  virtual  feeling, 
the  stored-up  accumulations  of  previous  experiences,  our  own  and 
Ihose  of  others."—  &  H.  Lewe& 


126  MEMOET. 

therefore  dependent  upon  the  number,  state,  and  con- 
dition of  the  sensory  organs.  A  man  with  only  one 
sense  can  know  nothing  of  the  external  world  but  what 
is  revealed  to  him  through  that  one  medium.  If  we 
suppose  that  sense  to  be  sight,  then  the  world  will 
present  itself  to  the  mind  only  as  it  is  seen, — no  sound 
will  ever  issue  from  it,  touch  or  feeling  will  give  no 
information  respecting  it,  it  will  yield  no  taste  and  no 
smell.1  In  like  manner,  the  individual  who  is  destitute 
of  one  or  more  of  the  senses  is  entirely  cut  off  from 
such  kinds  of  knowledge  as  naturally  come  in  through 
these.  Thus  the  man  who  is  born  blind  can  form  no 
conception  of  colour,  nor  can  one  congenitally  deaf 
have  any  idea  of  musical  tones.2  In  every  such  case 
the  man  converses  with  the  material  world  in  utter 
ignorance  of  those  properties  of  matter  which  can  alone 
find  entrance  through  these  senses  of  which  he  is  desti- 
tute.8 

Even  with  all  our  senses  there  is  every  reason  to 
believe  that  it  is  only  a  small  portion  of  the  outer  world 
that  is  revealed  to  us  by  them,  and  that  there  exist 
around  us,  and  contiguous  to  us,  many  objects  that  our 
present  senses  are  unable  to  apprehend.4  An  additional 

1  "  We  can  conceive  ourselves  as  endowed  with  smelling,  and  not 
enjoying  any  other  faculty.     In  that  case  we  should  have  no  idea  of 
objects  as  seeable,  as  hearable,  as  touchable,  as   tastable.  .  .  .  Our 
life  would  be  a  train  of  smells,  and  nothing  more." — Jas.  Mill. 

2  M  When  an  individual  is  deprived  of  the  organs  of  sight,  no 
power  of  attention  or  continued  effort  of  the  will,  or  exercise  of  the 
other  senses,  can  make  him  enjoy  the  class  of  sensations  which  is 
lost."—  Sir  G.  Bell. 

3  "  The  attentive  study  of  cases  in  which  there  is  congenital  defi- 
ciency of  one  or  more  senses  makes  it  evident  that  the  mind  is  utterly 
incapable  of  forming  any  definite  ideas  in  regard  to  those  properties 
of  objects  of  which  these  particular  senses  are  adapted  to  take  cog- 
nisance."— Dr.  Carpenter. 

4  "  It  does  not  seem,  at  all  improbable  that  there  are  properties  oi 


THE   SENSES.  127 

sense  might  probably  make  revelations  to  us  no  less 
surprising  than  the  sense  of  sight  to  one  who  has  been 
born  blind/  Further,  there  are  heights  and  depths  in 
the  phenomena  of  sense  of  which  our  present  senses 
cannot  take  cognisance,  but  which  would  be  apparent 
to  them  were  they  more  acute  or  powerful.  Certain  of 
the  lower  animals  have  some  at  least  of  the  senses  in 
higher  perfection  than  man,  if  they  have  not,  as  some 
think,  senses  of  which  he  has  no  knowledge.2 

Man,  however,  is  able  by  means  of  instruments  or 
appliances  of  different  kinds  to  greatly  extend  the  power 
of  his  senses.3  Thus  by  means  of  the  microscope  and 

matter  of  which  none  of  our  senses  can  take  immediate  cognisance, 
and  which  other  beings  might  be  formed  to  perceive  in  the  same 
manner  as  we  are  sensible  to  light,  sound,  &c." — Dr.  Carpenter.  It 
may  be  that  "  within  the  field  occupied  by  the  visible  and  ponder- 
able universe,  there  is  existing  and  moving  another  element  fraught 
with  another  species  of  life — corporeal,  indeed,  and  various  in  its 
orders,  but  not  open  to  the  cognisance  of  those  who  are  confined  to 
the  conditions  of  animal  organisation.  .  .  .  Is  it  to  be  thought  that 
the  eye  of  man  is  the  measure  of  the  Creator's  power  ?— and  has  He 
created  nothing  which  He  has  not  exposed  to  our  senses  ?  The  con- 
trary seems  much  more  than  barely  possible  ;  ought  we  not  to  think 
it  almost  certain  V — Isaac  Taylor. 

1  "  If  a  new  sense  or  two  were  added  to  the  present  normal 
number  in  man,  that  which  is  now  the  phenomenal  world  for  all  of 
us  might,  for  all  we  know,  burst  into  something  amazingly  wider 
and  different,  in  consequence  of  the  additional  revelations  through 
these  new  senses." — Prof.  Masson. 

2  "  We  find  every  organ  of  sense,  with  the  exception  of  that  of 
touch,  more  perfect  in  brutes  than  in  man.     In  the  eagle  and  the 
hawk,  in  the  gazelle  and  in  the  feline  tribe,  the  perfection  of  the  eye 
is  admirable  ;  in  the  dog,  wolf,  hyyona,  as  well  as  in  birds  of  prey, 
the  sense  of  smelling  is  inconceivably  acute  ;  and  if  we  should  have 
some  hesitation  in  assigning  a  more  exquisite  sense  of  taste  to  brutes, 
we  cannot  doubt  the  superiority  of  thut  of  hearing  in  the  inferior 
animals." — Sir  G.  Bell. 

3  "  All  observing  instruments,  all  weights,  measures,  scales,  micro 
meters,  verniers,   microscopes,  thermometers,   barometers,  &c.,  are 
artificial  extensions  of  the  senses  ;  and  all  levers,  screws,  hammers, 
wedges,  wheels,  lathes,  &c.,  are  artificial  extensions  of  the  liinbs."— 
H.  Spencer. 


128  MEMOBT. 

telescope  he  is  able  to  discern  objects  invisible  to  the 
naked  eye ;  by  means  of  measures  and  weights  he  can 
distinguish  differences  that  are  indistinguishable  by  the 
eye  or  hand ;  and  by  means  of  chemical  tests  he  can 
determine  the  presence  of  substances  that  are  indeter- 
minable by  taste  or  smell.  These  "  supplementary 
senses,"  as  they  have  been  called,  have  done  much  to 
extend  our  knowledge  of  nature,  and  to  reveal  the  pre- 
sence of  objects  and  forces  that  were  before  unknown.1 
The  senses,  then,  are  certain  organs  of  the  body  by 
means  of  which  the  mind  acquires  its  knowledge  of  the 
external  world,  and  of  the  properties  of  the  various  objects 
which  it  comprises.2  They  are  commonly  reckoned  five 
— sight,  hearing,  touch,  taste,  and  smell ;  but  physiolo- 
gists generally  add  a  sixth  sense,  the  muscular,  which 
reveals  the  state  of  the  muscles,  and  thereby  largely 
contributes  to  our  knowledge  of  external  objects.  There 
are  certain  other  feelings  which  are  by  some  classed  as 
sensations,  having  an  organ  or  seat  in  the  body,  and 
consciously  affecting  the  mind.  Such  are  the  feelings 
connected  with  the  stomach  or  intestinal  canal,  as 
hunger,  thirst,  repletion,  indigestion,  &c.,  or  such  as 
arise  from  diseased  or  abnormal  states  of  particular 
organs  or  tissues,  as  inflammation,  cramp,  bto*ns, 
bruises,  and  the  like.8  .These  are  doubtless  sources  of 

1  "  When  to  the  unaided  senses  science  began  to  add  supplementary 
senses  in  the  shape  of  measuring  instruments,  men  began  to  perceive 
various  phenomena  which  eyes  and  fingers  conld  not  distinguish.    Of 
known  forms  of  force  minuter  manifestations   became  appreciable, 
and  forms  of  force  before  unknown  were  rendered  cognisable  and 
measurable." — H.  Spencer. 

2  "  The  sensory  organs  are  only  instruments  of  the  mind,  which 
has  its  seat  in  the  brain,  and  by  means  of  nerves  makes  use  of  these 
instruments  to  obtain,  information  of  external  objects." — Prof.  Bern- 
stein. 

"  The  complicated  sensations  in  the  intestinal  canal  .  .  .  though 
obscure,  and  even  unknown  as  individual  sensations,  often  constitute 


THE  SENSES.  129 

much  pleasure  or  pain,  and  thus  contribute  largely  to 
our  mental  experience,  but  they  do  little  in  the  way  of 
revealing  to  us  the  external  world,  or  of  adding  to  our 
knowledge  of  things  around  us.  Their  office  is  mainly 
confined  to  making  known  the  state  and  condition  of 
the  body  itself  in  order  to  its  maintenance  in  a  sound 
and  healthy  condition.1 

Each  of  the  senses  is  so  formed  and  constituted  as 
to  be  susceptible  to  certain  kinds  of  impressions  made 
upon  it  from  without,  and  which  are  conveyed  by  means 
of  nerves  to  a  central  organ,  where  they  become  known 
to  the  mind.  A  sensation,  then,  is  a  mental  impression 
produced  by  a  material  change  effected  by  the  action  of 
an  external  object  or  stimulus  on  some  part  of  the  body 
which  is  sensitive  to  it,  and  conveyed  to  the  brain.  In 
other  words,  it  is  the  mental  representation  of  an  ex- 
ternal fact  by  which  it  is  produjed.2  Every  normal 
sensation,  therefore,  involves  :  (1)  an  external  agent  or 
stimulus  which  impresses  or  acts  upon  the  bodily 
organ;  (2)  a  bodily  organ  which  receives  the  impres- 

a  general  state  of  feeling  which  is  sometimes  exhilarating  and  some- 
times depressing." — James  Mill.  "The  massive  influence  of  the 
systemic  sensations  in  determining  the  desires,  volitions,  and  concep- 
tions of  mankind,  has  not  been  adequately  recognised.  Yet  everyone 
knows  the  effect  of  impure  air  or  a  congested  liver  in  swaying  the 
mental  mood,  and  how  a  heavy  meal  interferes  with  muscular  and 
mental  exertion." — G.  H.  Lewes. 

1  "  The  characteristic  distinction  between  these  common  sensations 
and  the  sensations  of  the  senses  is  that  by  the  latter  we  gain  know- 
ledge of  the  occurrences  and  objects  which  belong  to  the  external 
world,  and  that  we  refer  the  sensations  which  they  produce  to 
external  objects,  whilst  by  the  former  we  only  feel  conditions  of  our 
own  body." — Prof.  J.  Bernstein. 

2  "  A  sensation  is  a  mental  representation,  the  internal  sign  of  an 
external  fact  exciting  it." — H.  Taine.    It  is  •"  the  mental  impression, 
feeling,  or  conscious  state  resulting  from  the  action  of  external  things 
on  some  part  of  the  body  called  on  that  account  sensitive  ". — Prof. 
Bain. 


130  MEMOBY. 

sion  and  carries  it  inward  to  the  brain;  and  (3)  a 
mental  impression  or  change  corresponding  to  the  phy- 
sical one.  Thus  every  real  sensation  corresponds  to 
some  external  fact,  which  it  represents  with  more  or 
less  approximation  to  accuracy,  and  whose  internal 
substitute  it  is.1  It  is  possible  to  have  sensations  in 
the  mind  which  cannot  be  distinguished  from  real  ones, 
but  which  have  no  external  fact  corresponding  to  them 
— which  are  caused  by  no  external  agent  or  stimulus  ; 
and,  on  the  other  hand,  all  the  physical  conditions 
necessary  for  sensation  may  be  present,  but  if  the  mind 
be  otherwise  occupied  no  mental  change  may  take 
place,  in  which  case  there  will  be  no  sensation.2 

Each  organ  of  sense  is  specially  adapted  for  the  re- 
ception of  its  proper  stimulus — the  eye  for  light,  the 
ear  for  sound,  the  tongue  for  taste,  the  nose  for  smell, 
the  skin  for  touch,  and  the  muscles  for  muscular  feeling.3 
There  is  thus  no  danger  of  one  kind  of  sensation  being 
confounded  with  another,  nor  can  one  sense  by  any 
possibility  assume  the  functions  of  another.  In  this 
way  the  senses  may  be  said  to  concentrate  the  mind  in 
one  direction,  or  upon  one  object  or  quality  at  a  time, 


1  "  Every  normal  sensation  corresponds  to  some  external  fact 
which  it  transcribes  with  greater  or  less  approximation  to  accuracy, 
and  whose  internal  substitute  it  is." — H.  Taine. 

2  "  A  state  of  the  sensitive  organs,  and  a  corresponding  perception 
by  the  mind,  must  concur  to  produce  sensation  :  either  condition 
may  exist  alone,  but  then  the  phenomenon  is  not  a  true  sensation." 
— Todd  and  Bowman. 

8  "  Each  organ  of  sense  has  its  own  specific  irritation  by  which  it 
is  excited.  The  terminations  of  the  optic  nerve  in  the  eye  can  only 
be  excited  by  light- waves,  not  by  sound-waves ;  and  the  latter  can 
only  excite  the  terminations  of  the  auditory  nerve  in  the  ear." — 
Prof.  Bernstein.  "  The.  nerve  of  vision  is  as  insensible  to  touch  as 
the  nerve  of  touch  is  to  light.  ...  The  beauty  and  perfection  of  the 
system  is  that  each  nerve  is  made  susceptible  to  its  peculiar  impres- 
gion  only."— Sir  G.  Bell. 


THE  SENSES.  131 

and  thus  to  (secure  greater  power,  definiteness,  and 

point.1 

Whatever  may  be  the  nature  of  the  stimulus  applied 
to  any  of  the  organs  of  sense,  it  will  excite  only  that 
kind  of  sensation  for  which  the  organ  is  adapted. 
Thus,  any  stimulus  applied  to  the  eye  or  optic  nerve, 
as  a  blow  or  an  electric  shock,  produces  a  sensation  of 
light ;  applied  to  the  ear  or  auditory  nerve,  a  sensation 
of  sound  ;  and  so  with  the  other  senses.  The  optic  or 
auditory  nerve  may  be  pricked  or  cut  without  giving 
rise  to  a  feeling  of  pain,  any  more  than  a  nerve  of  touch 
on  being  pricked  or  cut  will  give  rise  to  a  sensation  of 
light  or  sound.  Thus  every  sensory  organ  responds  to 
all  the  agents  that  act  upon  it  only  in  one  and  the  same 
way. 

In  each  organ  of  sense  we  have  three  distinct  parts : 
(1)  an  external  or  outer  terminal  portion  which  is  spe- 
cially fitted  to  receive  and  take  up  its  appropriate 
impressions  ;  (2)  a  sensory  nerve  which  serves  to 
convey  the  impression  inward ;  and  (3)  a  central  ter- 
minal portion  in  the  encephalon  for  receiving  it  and 
presenting  it  to  the  mind.  The  outer  terminal  portion, 
or  what  is  commonly  known  as  the  organ  of  sense,  is 
specially  adapted  to  receive  and  take  in  the  impressions 
made  upon  it  from  without.  In  some  we  also  find 
what  are  known  as  "multipliers  of  disturbance,"  or 

1  "  The  organs  of  sense  are  particular  adjustments  of  nervous  sen- 
si  bility,  intended  to  concentrate  the  mind  at  different  times  upon 
single  properties  of  the  external  world,  with  a  view  to  the  better 
securing  of  definite  purposes." — Isaac  Taylor.  "  The  organs  of  sense 
may  be  compared  to  so  many  instruments  which  the  philosopher 
applies  to  distinguish  the  several  qualities  of  the  body  which  he 
investigates.  The  different  properties  of  that  body  are  not  com- 
municable through  any  one  instrument ;  and  so  in  the  use  of  the 
senses  each  organ  is  provided  for  receiving  a  particular  influence, 
and  no  other." — Sir  C.  BdL 


132  MBMOEY. 

contrivances  for  rendering  the  impressions  more  intense 
than  they  otherwise  would  be.1  "Without  the  outer  organ 
of  sense  we  could  have  no  sensation  properly  so  called. 
The  optic  nerve  itself  apart  from  the  retinal  expansion 
is  as  insensible  to  light  as  a  motor  nerve  is.  Irritation 
of  the  optic  nerve  "  may  certainly  occasion  luminous 
patches,  globes  of  fire,  and  coloured  figures  in  the 
retina/'  but  not  complex  forms  such  as  houses,  men, 
trees ;  so  in  hearing  irritation  of  the  auditory  nerve 
"  may  determine  buzzings  and  noises  loud  or  otherwise 
in  the  ear  but  not  actual  words  or  tunes". — Dr. 
Griesinger.  The  sensory  nerves  serve  simply  to  transmit 
the  impression  from  the  outer  organ  to  the  central 
structure,  where  it  impresses  the  mind  and  becomes  a 
fact  of  consciousness.  This  central  portion  is  the  most 
important  part  of  the  organ.  It  is  upon  its  individual 
centre  that  the  special  character  of  each  class  of  sensa- 
tions depends.2 

In  inflammation  or  other  abnormal  states  of  a  centre, 
sensations  are  frequently  ielt  without  any  external  cause, 
and  without  the  external  organ  or  nerve  being  affected 

1  "  The  extremities  of  the  nerve  fibres  are  so  placed  as  to  be  most 
easily  disturbed,  and  we  generally  also  find  what  may  be  called 
multipliers  of  disturbances,  which  serve  to  concentrate  upon  the 
ends  of  nerves  the  actions  of  external  agents.  Thus,  where  the 
sense  of  touch  is  most  acute,  there  are  certain  small  dense  bodies, 
named  corpuscula  tactus,  round  each  of  which  a  nerve  fibre  ramifies 
so  as  to  receive  a  greater  pressure  when  touched.  In  like  manner 
there  are  certain  otolites  and  minute  rods  or  fibres  immersed  in  a 
liquid  in  the  inner  ear,  serving  to  intensify  the  less  sensible  vibra- 
tions communicated  to  this  liquid." — H.  Spencer. 

8  "  The  immediate  condition  of  the  sensation  is  found  in  the  ner- 
vous centres,  where  there  is  produced  a  molecular  movement  of 
unknown  nature,  without  which  the  sensation  cannot  arise,  and 
which  is  of  itself  sufficient  to  give  rise  to  it.  ...  Many  sensations 
arise  in  us  without  the  intervention  of  the  nerves,  and  by  the  simple 
excitation  of  the  nervous  centres.  Such  are  hallucinations  strictly 
so  called."— H.  Taine. 


THE   SENSES.  133 

from  without  Eingingin  the  ears,  flashing  of  light  before 
the  eyes,  nauseous  tastes  or  disagreeable  odours,  are 
familiar  instances  of  this .  In  all  such  cases ,  however,  the 
centre  can  only  recall  previous  impressions.  If  it  has 
not  previously  been  in  a  state  of  activity,  no  sensation 
can  possibly  be  felt.  No  condition  of  the  centre  itself 
will  ever  give  rise  to  sensations  unless  it  has  first  been 
stimulated  from  without. 

In  every  act  of  sensation  the  mind  is  the  most  im- 
portant factor.  It  is  this  which  takes  up,  fashions, 
and  interprets  the  impressed  sensation.1  A  stimulus 
may  affect  a  sensory  organ,  may  produce  a  disturbance 
in  the  nerve,  and  there  is  every  reason  to  believe  may 
even  agitate  the  nervous  centre,  but  if  the  mind  is 
otherwise  occupied  it  will  not  be  perceived.2  Some- 
times the  idea  in  the  mind  masters  the  outward  sensa- 
tion, and  men  fancy  that  they  perceive  things  which 
have  no  objective  existence,  or  they  seem  to  them  very 
different  from  what  they  are.  To  the  perturbed  or 
terrified  mind  the  simplest  forms  sometimes  present 
the  most  frightful  aspects,  and  the  mesmerised  subject 
may  be  induced  to  believe  that  the  water  in  his  mouth 
is  wine  or  vinegar.8 

1  "  It  is  not  the  stimulus  which  is  the  object  felt,  it  is  the  change 
in  consciousness." — G.  H.  Lewes.    "  What  we  term  the  perception  of 
an  individual,  as  a  given  tree,  is  not  simply  a  sense-impression  of 
the  moment,  it  is  an  aggregation  of  many  generalised  impressions." 
— D  Stewart. 

2  "  Every  minute  we  experience  twenty  sensations  of  heat,  cold, 
pressure,  contact,  muscular  contraction  ;  slight  sensations  like  these 
are  being  incessantly  produced  in  all  parts  of.  our  bodies;  in  addition 
to  this,  sounds,  murmurings,  and  hummings  are  constantly  going  on 
in  our  ears ;  a  number  of  little  sensations  of  smell  and  taste  arise  in 
our  noses  and  throats ;  but  we  are  otherwise  engaged — we  are 
thinking,  meditating,  talking,  reading — and  during  all  this  time  we 
neglect  other  things. — H.  Taine. 

9  "  Children,  and  even  grown  men,  have  fallen  insensible  before  * 
11 


134  MEMOEY. 

Whatever  acts  upon  an  organ  of  sense  does  so  in  the 
form  of  motion.  Nothing  can  act  upon  the  senses  or 
be  taken  up  by  them  unless  it  present  itself  to  them  in 
the  form  of  motion.1  Light  and  colour  result  from  the 
undulations  of  an  extremely  delicate  aerial  fluid  which 
strikes  the  eye  ;  all  sonorous  bodies  are  bodies  in 
motion,  the  motion  being  communicated  to  the  sur- 
rounding atmosphere  and  so  entering  the  ear;  taste 
and  smell  also  result  from  motions  that  necessarily 
take  place  before  objects  of  these  classes  can  be  per- 
ceived. Touch  is  also  a  manifest  instance  of  motion, 
as  all  touch  implies  motion.  Thus  touch  of  one  kind 
or  another  is  involved  in  every  act  of  sensation ;  and 

figure,  or  even  a  cloth,  which  they  have  believed  to  be  a  ghost.  On 
recovering,  they  have  asserted  that  they  saw  flaming  eyes,  open  jaws, 
&c.w— H.  Taine. 

1 "  The  only  way  in  which  the  external  world  affects  the  nervous 
system  is  by  means  of  motion.  Light  is  motion,  sound  motion,  heat 
motion,  touch  motion,  taste  and  smell  all  motion.  The  world  is 
known  to  sense  simply  by  virtue  of,  and  in  relation  to,  the  motions 
of  its  particles  ;  these  motions  are  appreciated  and  continued  by  the 
nervous  system,  and  by  it  are-  brought  at  length  to  the  mind's  per- 
ception. When  the  mind  reacts  in  its  turn  upon  the  world,  it  does 
so  wholly  through  the  nerves  of  motion.  The  last  material  action 
we  can  trace  in  every  process  of  sensation  previous  to  its  entering 
the  abode  of  consciousness  is  motion  ;  the  first  reaction  we  see  as  it 
emerges  from  the  abode  of  consciousness  back  into  time  and  space 
again  is  motion." — J.  D.  Morell.  "  Whatever  may  be  the  structure 
of  the  nerves  and  nervous  centres  whose  action  excites  a  sensation, 
however  various  this  structure  may  be  supposed,  that  which  is 
transmitted  from  one  end  of  the  nerve  to  the  other  up  to  the  ultimate 
nervous  centre  is  never  more  than  a  molecular  displacement  more  or 
less  rapid,  extensive,  and  complex.  ...  So  that  the  different  nervous 
actions  which  excite  different  sensations  can  only  be  conceived  as 
systems  of  movements." — H.  Taine.  "How  exceedingly  different 
to  the  eye  of  the  mind,  as  we  may  say,  are  our  ideas  of  sensible  things 
from  anything  that  could  have  been  conjectured  concerning  their 
effect  upon  us — as  the  ideas  of  sound  from  the  tremulous  motion  of 
the  particles  of  the  air,  and  much  more  the  ideas  of  the  different 
colours  from  the  impulse  of  the  rays  of  light  of  different  degrees  of 
refrangibility." — Dr.  Priestley. 


THE   SENSES.  135 

modern  science  bas  verified  the  ancient  doctrine  of 
Democritus,  that  all  the  senses  are  modifications  of  the 
sense  of  touch.1 

The  motions  which  give  rise  to  sensations  only  affect 
the  mind  within  certain  limits.  A  certain  velocity  is 
necessary  in  order  to  their  being  perceived,  and  beyond 
a  certain  velocity  they  cease  to  affect  the  mind.2  This 
has  been  illustrated  by  supposing  a  rod  revolving  on 
one  end  any  number  of  times  a  second  in  a  dark  room. 
At  first  when  it  attains  about  16  or  20  revolutions  a 
second,  a  deep  growling  sound  reaches  the  ear,  becoming 
less  and  less  grave  and  more  and  more  acute  with  the 
increase  of  velocity,  till  it  reaches  a  pitch  of  shrillness 
hardly  to  be  borne  when  the  speed  is  reckoned  by  tens 
of  thousands.  At  length  when  it  arrives  at  about 
40,000  revolutions  a  second  the  shrillness  passes  into 
silence — a  silence  never  again  to  be  broken.  But  let 
it  attain  some  millions  of  revolutions  a  second,  and 
faint  rays  of  heat  will  be  given  out,  becoming  more  and 
more  intense  as  the  rate  of  movement  increases.  When 
it  has  reached  some  four  hundred  billions  of  times  a 
second  a  dim  red  light  is  seen,  and  now  as  the  rate 
still  mounts  up  the  heat  in  its  turn  dies  away  like  the 

1  "Every  impression  on  the  senses  can  be  resolved  finally  into  an 
impression  of  contact  or  touch ;  so  that  touch  is  the  fundamental 
sense,  and  all  the  organs  of  the  senses  are  but  very  delicate  instru- 
ments of  touch." — Dr.  Laycodc.  "As  Democritus  long  ago  shrewdly 
observed,  all  the  senses  are  only  modifications  of  touch." — Sir  //'. 
Hamilton.  "  Not  only  do  the  conclusions  of  physicists  support  this 
doctrine  which  Democritus  taught,  but  the  conclusions  of  biologist.-, 
do  the  like.  ...  A  contact  of  the  undulating  medium  with  an 
adapted  part  of  the  surface  is  the  prerequisite  to  any  impression."- 
H.  Spencer. 

*  "  A  stimulation  must  reach  a  certain  intensity  before  it  is  a 
feeling  .  .  .  but  beyond  a  certain  limit  increase  of  stimulation 
diminishes,  and  finally  arrests  the  activity.  Duration  of  stimulation 
is  equivalent  to  increase.  .  .  .  Excess  of  light  is  blinding,  excess  of 
sound  deafening." — G.  H.  Lewes. 


136  MBMOBY. 

sound,  never  to  return,  and  the  red  light  gradually 
passes  into  a  yellow,  a  green,  a  blue,  and  last  of  all  a 
violet,  to  be  followed  by  darkness  never  again  to  be 
broken  when  the  velocity  has  reached  about  eight  hun- 
dred billions  a  second.  Beyond  this,  however  much 
the  velocity  may  be  increased,  it  will  never  again  become 
manifest' to  any  of  the  senses. 

We  cannot  imagine  that  a  single  stimulus  acting  on 
an  organ  of  sense  could  at  once  raise  the  vibratory 
motion  from  zero  to  these  high  rates.  We  must  sup- 
pose the  various  nerves  to  be  incessantly  vibrating  with 
more  or  less  rapidity,  and  ready  to  be  set  in  more  active 
agitation  at  a  moment's  notice  by  the  vibratory  action 
of  external  objects.1  Hence  it  is  when  the  vibrations 
within  the  body  are  accelerated  by  vibrations  from  with- 
out, that  we  have  sensation. 

All  our  sensations  are  compounds  of  movements, 
which  in  order  to  be  perceived  require  to  be  grouped 
together  so  as  to  acquire  a  certain  bulk,  and  to  occupy 
a  certain  time.  Every  object  perceptible  by  any  of  the 
senses  is  made  up  of  innumerable  particles  which  are 
imperceptible.2  Thus  the  distant  murmur  of  the  sea  is 

1  "  The  fact  that  a  stimulation  must  reach  a  certain  intensity 
before  it  is  a  feeling,  and  that  henceforth  this  feeling  increases  in  a 
constant  ratio  with  the  increase  of  the  stimulus,  to  vanish  abruptly 
when  a  certain  limit  is  reached,  proves  that  there  must  be  molecular 
movements  in  the  tissue  which  are  not  grouped  into  processes,  and 
this  both  before  a  sensation  emerges  and  after  it  has  vanished.  .  .  . 
Undulations  can  be  shown  really  to  exist  both  before  they  have 
acquired  the  quantitative  rapidity  necessary  for  the  qualitative  effect 
of  light  and  after  this  quantity  has  been  surpassed.     There  is  no 
light,  no  luminous  effect,  before  the  undulations  have  reached  some 
four  hundred  billions  in  a  second,  nor  after  they  have  passed  some 
eight  hundred  billions  :  these  are  the  luminous  limits;  on  either  side 
of  these  limits  the  retina  refuses  to  respond  by  the  feeling  known  as 
luminous  quality  " — G.  H.  Lewes. 

2  "  The  elementary  sensations  directly  making  up  our  ordinary 
sensations  are  themselves  compounded  of  sensations  of  less  intensity 


THE   SENSES.  137 

made  up  of  the  noise  of  many  waves.  While  the  sound 
of  any  individual  wave  might  be  inaudible,  yet  each  one 
contributes  its  quota  to  make  the  whole  heard.  Thus 
sensation  only  takes  place  under  certain  conditions  of 
mass,  intensity,  and  duration.1 

The  motion  which  acts  upon  the  external  organ  is 
communicated  to  the  nerve,  and  through  it  is  conveyed 
to  the  nerve  centre.  The  sensory  nerves,  like  all  nerves, 
are  characterised  by  the  extreme  mobility  of  their  con- 
tents, or  their  susceptibility  of  molecular  change,  and 
are  thus  eminently  fitted  for  conveying  the  impressions 
they  receive.  That  which  is  transmitted  is  in  every 
case  a  disturbance  or  displacement  of  the  nerve  mole- 
cules which  is  set  up  or  originated  in  the  external 
organ,  and  conveyed  to  the  central  structure,  where  it 
is  taken  up  by  the  mind. 

Thus  all  that  is  transmitted  from  an  organ  of  sense 
to  the  brain  is  a  particular  kind  of  motion.  It  is  the 
mind  that  imparts  to  each  of  these  its  particular  inter- 
pretation. "  Our  sensations,"  says  Helmholtz,  "  are 
for  us  only  symbols  of  the  objects  of  the  external  world, 

and  duration,  and  so  on.  Thus  there  is  going  on  within  us  a  sub- 
terranean process  of  infinite  extent ;  its  products  alone  are  known  to 
us,  and  are  only  known  to  us  in  the  mass.  As  to  elements  and  their 
elements  consciousness  does  not  attain  to  them  .  .  .  they  are  to  sen- 
sations what  secondary  molecules  and  primitive  molecules  are  to 
bodies.  .  .  .  We  get  a  glance  here  at  the  obscure  and  infinite  world 
extending  beneath  our  distinct  sensations.  These  are  compounds 
and  wholes.  For  their  elements  to  be  perceptible  to  consciousness 
it  is  necessary  for  them  to  be  added  together,  and  so  to  acquire  a 
ceitain  bulk  and  to  occupy  a  certain  time ;  if  the  group  does  not 
attain  this  bulk,  and  does  not  last  this  time,  we  observe  no  change 
in  our  state.  Nevertheless,  though  it  escapes  us  there  is  one." — H. 
Taine. 

1  "  The  sensory  organ  needs  to  be  impressed  with  a  certain  energy 
and  for  a  certain  time  ;  neither  too  small  an  energy  nor  too  great  an 
energy,  otherwise  there  is  not  the  reaction  which  is  specincallj  a 
eenaation." — G.  H.  Lewes. 


138  MEMORY. 

and  correspond  to  them  only  in  some  such  way  aa 
written  characters  or  articulate  words  do  to  the  things 
they  denote." l 

Nerve-force  has  much  in  common  with  electricity, 
and  it  is  not  improbable  that  it  is  a  particular  form  of 
this  power ;  but  while  the  electric  current  passes  along 
the  wire  at  the  rate  of  about  288,000  miles  in  a  second, 
nerve-force  traverses  a  nerve  at  the  rate  of  only  about 
100  to  130  feet  in  the  same  space  of  time.2  Hence  its 
progress  has  been  compared  rather  to  ignition  passing 
along  a  train  of  gunpowder;  and  it  has  this  too  in 
common  with  the  latter,  that  every  act  of  stimulation 
is  attended  with  waste  of  nerve  substance,  which  re- 
quires to  be  constantly  renewed,  whereas  no  such 
waste  takes  place  in  the  electric  wire.  Unlike  the 
electric  current,  too,  nerve-force  appears  to  gather 
strength  as  it  passes  along  the  nerve,  becoming  stronger 
the  longer  its  course.  Further,  nerve-force  does  not 
act  continuously  but  intermittingly,  in  waves  or  im- 
pulses. 

The  senses  directly  or  indirectly  furnish  all  the  mate- 
rials of  thought  and  of  knowledge,  for  there  is  nothing 
in  the  mind  that  has  not  entered  it  through  the  senses. 
They  also  supply  the  stimulus  necessary  to  develop 
every  inborn  faculty,  for  without  their  aid  every  power 

1 "  For  a  sign  it  is  sufficient  that  it  become  apparent  as  often  as 
the  occurrence  to  be  depicted  makes  its  appearance,  the  conformity 
between  them  being  restricted  to  their  presenting  themselves  simul- 
taneously ;  and  the  correspondence  existing  between  our  sensations 
and  the  objects  producing  them  is  precisely  of  this  kind." — H, 
Helmholfa. 

2  "  The  nerve  current  travels  slowly  compared  with  the  velocity 
of  electricity  or  of  light.  In  the  motor  nerves  of  the  frog  the  velocity 
is  about  87  feet  per  second,  and  in  man  and  warm-blooded  animals 
somewhat  faster,  115  to  130  feet  per  second.  .  .  .  The  remarkable 
point  is  that  the  transmission  of  the  nerve  current  is  alow."— Prof 
M'Kendrick. 


THE   SENSES.  139 

of  the  mind  would  remain  for  ever  dormant.1  Without 
their  aid,  too,  without  their  guidance  and  direction, 
voluntary  action  would  be  impossible.2  We  can  only 
will  to  do  a  thing  by  knowing  beforehand  what  it  is 
and  how  it  is  to  be  effected,  and  this  knowledge  comes 
to  us  solely  through  the  senses.  Hence,  the  more  we 
exercise  and  train  the  senses,  the  more  do  we  develop 
and  strengthen  our  several  mental  powers,  do  we  store 


1  "  Apprehension  by  the  senses  supplies  directly  or  indirectly  the 
material  of  all  human  knowledge,  or  at  least  the  stimulus  necessary 
to  develop  every  inborn  faculty  of  the  mind." — H.  Helmholtz.  "  Sen- 
sibility is  the  indispensable  condition  of  the  development  of  all  our 
faculties,  not  only  of  the  faculties  that  evidently  pertain  to  sensi- 
bility, but  of  those  that  seem  to  be  most  remote  from  it." — V.  Cousin. 
"  It  may  be  affirmed  with  certainty  that  no  mental  action  can  be 
originally  excited  »save  by  the  stimulus  of  sensations." — Dr.  Carpenter. 
"  We  doubt  whether  the  body  would  ever  be  exercised  under  the 
influence  of  reason  alone,  and  if  it  were  not  first  directed  by  sensi- 
bilities which  are  innate  or  instinctive." — Sir  G.  Bell.  "  The  nerve 
cells  of  our  cerebral  hemispheres  are  so  completely  dependent,  for 
that  excitation  of  force  which  constitutes  intellectual  action,  upon  the 
stimuli  conveyed  to  them  through  the  sensory  ganglia  from  the 
organs  of  sense,  as  are  those  of  our  spinal  cord  upon  the  stimuli  con- 
veyed to  them  either  from  the  superior  nerve  centres  or  from  tlie 
peripheral  irritation  of  an  afferent  nerve." — Dr.  Child.  "  It  is  almost 
a  truism  to  say  that  in  proportion  to  the  nunierousness  of  the  objects 
that  can  be  distinguished,  and  in  proportion  to  the  variety  of  co- 
existences and  sequences  that  can  be  severally  responded  to,  must  be 
the  number  and  rapidity  and  heterogeneity  of  the  changes  going  on 
within  the  organism — must  be  the  amount  of  vitality." — H.  Spencer. 
"  We  are  most  fully  conscious  when  we  are  most  receptive  of  external 
impressions,  and  we  lapse  into  a  completely  or  partially  unconscious 
condition  when  the  advent  of  such  impressions  is  for  a  time  pre- 
vented, or  when  we  are  intensely  absorbed  in  some  train  of  thought, 
that  is,  when  the  activity  of  other  portions  of  the  cerebral  hemi- 
spheres in  some  way  dwarfs  or  eclipses  that  of  the  sensorial  regions 
proper." — Dr.  Bastian. 

8  "  No  voluntary  action  can  be  performed  without  the  assistance 
of  a  guiding  sensation,  as  was  first  prominently  stated  by  Sir  C.  Bell. 
When  we  are  about  to  make  a  muscular  effort,  the  amount  of  force 
which  we  put  forth  is  governed  by  the  mental  conception  of  thafc 
which  will  be  required  as  indicated  by  the  experience  of  former 
sensations."— Dr.  Carpenter, 


140  MEMORY. 

the  mind  with  materials  of  thought,  and  do  we  act 
with  efficiency  and  skill  in  whatever  lies  before  us. 

The  senses  have  much  more  to  do  with  the  memory 
than  is  commonly  supposed.  In  proportion  as  we  edu- 
cate and  train  the  senses  do  we  improve  and  enrich  the 
memory,  and  the  principles  that  guide  us  in  the  one 
case  are  the  same  as  those  we  should  follow  in  the 
other.  The  importance  of  the  cultivation  of  the  senses 
to  memory  will  be  still  farther  seen  if  it  be  the  case,  as 
we  believe  it  to  be,  that  they  are  not  only  concerned  in 
the  acquisition  of  our  knowledge,  but  concerned  also  m 
the  remembrance  of  it — that  we  cannot  remember  a 
thing  well,  cannot  imagine  it,  without  the  senses,  the 
means  by  which  it  originally  entered  the  mind  being 
again  called  into  play.  The  senses  would  then  be  seen 
to  be  necessary  not  only  to  the  acquisition  of  our  know- 
ledge, but  necessary  also  to  the  retention  and  reproduc- 
tion of  it.1  On  the  other  hand,  without  memory, 
without  the  power  of  retaining  and  recalling  past  im- 
pressions, sense-cultivation  would  be  impossible. 

1  <;  Suppose  that  once,  and  omy  once,  I  smelled  a  tube  rose  in  a 
certain  room,  where  it  grew  in  a  pot,  and  gave  a  very  grateful  per- 
fume. Next  day  I  relate  what  I  saw  and  smelled.  When  I  attend 
as  carefully  as  I  can  to  what  passes  in  my  mind  in  this  case,  it 
appears  evident  that  the  very  thing  I  saw  yesterday,  and  the  fra- 
grance I  smelled,  are  now  the  immediate  objects  of  my  mind  when  I 
remember  it.  .  .  .  Upon  the  strictest  attention,  memory  appears  to 
me  to  have  things  that  are  past,  and  not  present  ideas,  for  its  object." 
— Dr.  T.  Reid.  "  If  I  now  think  of  the  tangible  idea  of  a  cube — that 
is,  if  1  think  of  its  figure  and  of  the  solidity  of  every  part  of  that 
figure — I  must  conceive  myself  as  passing  my  fingers  over  it,  and 
seem  in  some  measure  to  feel  the  idea  as  I  formerly  did  the  impres- 
sion, as  the  ends  of  them." — Dr.  E.  Darwin.  "  The  chess-player  who 
plays  blindfolded,  the  painter  who  copies  an  absent  model,  the 
musician  who  hears  a  score  when  he  looks  over  a  sheet  of  music  .  .  . 
experience  the  same  emotions  as  if  the  chess-board,  the  model,  the 
symphony,  were  actually  experienced  by  their  senses.  It  provokes 
the  same  instinctive  movements,  and  the  same  associated  sensations.11 
— #.  Taine. 


THE   SENSES.  141 

That  the  senses  have  anything  to  do  with  the  remem- 
brance of  past  impressions  is,  however,  contrary  to  the 
opinion  almost  universally  received  among  physiolo- 
gists, who  regard  the  brain  as  the  sole  seat  of  the 
memory.  They  are  shut  up  to  this  view,  because  ifc  is 
regarded  as  an  established  doctrine  in  physiology  that 
each  class  of  nerves  convey  impressions  only  in  one 
direction — the  afferent  or  sensory  nerves  to  the  brain, 
and  the  efferent  or  motor  nerves  from  the  brain — the 
seat  oi  consciousness.  According  to  this,  every  sensa- 
tion we  experience  is  conveyed  to  the  brain,  and  is 
there  treasured  up  for  the  after  use  of  the  memory. 

It  was  formerly  believed  that  there  existed  a  differ- 
ence in  the  nature  or  structure  of  the  two  kinds  of 
fibres  to  account  for  their  different  modes  of  action. 
This,  however,  is  found  not  to  be  the  case,  for  the  two 
classes  of  fibres  are  exactly  alike,  and  are  each  capable 
of  transmitting  impressions  in  either  direction.1  A 
sensory  and  a  motor  nerve  may  be  joined,  and  when 
the  union  is  complete  excitation  of  the  sensory  will  be 
transmitted  to  the  motor  fibres.2  If  a  nerve  be  irritated 

1 .  .  .  ;4  A  priori  it  is  irrational  to  assert  that  nerves  fundamentally 
alike  in  composition  and  structure  are  unlike  in  properties.  .  .  . 
There  is  consequently  no  reason  for  asserting  that  because  the  usual 
direction  is  centripetal  in  a  sensory  nerve  and  centrifugal  in  a  motor 
nerve,  each  nerve  is  incapable  of  transmitting  excitations  in  both 
directions  .  .  .  There  is  no  fundamental  distinction  between  the  two 
nerves  ;  both  are  sensory  and  both  are  motor,  but  they  are  so  in 
different  degrees.  They  are,  strictly  speaking,  distinguishable  as 
muscle-nerves  and  skin-nerves  (he  is  here  speaking  only  of  one 
kind  of  sensory  nerves),  the  muscle-nerves  being  the  channels  for 
muscular  sensations  and  muscular  movements ;  the  skin-nerves  being 
ths  chair  1 1 -Is  for  skin-sensations  and  skin-movements." — G.  H.  Lewes. 

2  "  It  is  proved  that  the  end  of  a  sensory  nerve  may  be  united 
with  the  end  of  a  motor  nerve,  and  when  the  union  is  complete 
excitation  of  the  sensory  may  be  transmitted  to  the  motor  fibres,  and 
the  reverse." — Dr  Maudsley.  "  If  we  engraft  the  end  of  a  rat's  tail 
into  the  skin  of  its  back,  and  then  when  the  grafting  process  is  com- 
pleted  cut  the  basilary  portion  of  the  tail  about  a  centimetre  from 


142  MEMORY. 

in  any  part  of  its  length,  Bay  about  the  middle,  the 
excitation  is  simultaneously  transmitted  towards  each 
end.1  Sensory  fibres  convey  impressions  inward,  because 
they  are  connected  with  sensorial  parts  of  the  brain,  and 
upon  the  nature  of  the  part  depends  the  character  of 
the  sensation, — whether  it  be  a  sight,  a  sound,  a  touch, 
a  taste,  or  a  smell ;  and  motor  fibres  convey  motorial 
stimuli  outward  because  they  are  connected  with  motor 
organs.  "  If  it  were  possible,"  says  Dr.  Bernstein, 
"  we  might  place  any  motor  nerve  between  the  eye  and 
the  brain,  and  the  perception  of  light  would  not  be 
destroyed  in  the  least."  2 

The  unsatisfactory  nature  of  the  received  opinion  is 
especially  apparent  when  we  consider  the  efferent 
nerves  by  means  of  which  muscular  movements  are 
effected.  There  are  few  or  no  afferent  nerves  connected 
with  the  muscles,  and  yet  the  mind  is  constantly  aware 
of  their  condition,  and  of  the  movements  that  may  be 
taking  place  in  them.  How,  then,  is  this  knowledge 
conveyed  to  the  brain?  Some  have  attempted  to 
account  for  it  by  supposing  that  the  afferent  nerves 

the  root ;  after  some  months,  if  the  grafted  tail,  be  pinched  the 
animal  feels  it  and  turns  round  to  bite.  The  irritation  of  the  nerve, 
which  before  the  operation  acted  in  a  centripetal  direction,  now  acts 
in  a  centrifugal  one." — H.  Taine. 

1  "  It  would  appear  from  experimental  evidence  that  when  a  nerve 
fibre  is  irritated,  say  about  the  middle  of  its  length,  a  change  is 
simultaneously  propagated  towards  each  end." — Prof.  M'Kendrick. 
"  Every  excitation  applied  to  any  part  of  the  length  of  a  nervoua 
fibre  is  immediately  and  simultaneously  transmitted  in  two  direc- 
tions —centripetal  and  centrifugal." — H.  Taine. 

2  «  yery  lately  the  French  physiologists  Philippeau  and  Vulpian, 
after  dividing  the  motor  and  sensitive  nerves  of  the  tongue,  succeeded 
in  getting  the  upper  half  of  the  sensitive  nerve  to  unite  with  the 
lower  half  of  the  motor.     After  the  wound  had  healed  they  found 
that  irritation  of  the  upper  half,  which  in  normal  conditions  would 
Lave  been  felt  as  a  sensation,  now  excited  the  motor  branches  below, 
and  thus  caused  the  muscles  of  the  tongue  to  move." — H.  Eelmholtz. 


THE   SENSES.  143 

which  proceed  to  the  skin  covering  the  respective 
muscles  convey  the  information.1  The  simple  and 
sufficient  answer  to  this  is  that  the  sensibility  of  the 
skin  may  be  entirely  lost  or  destroyed,  and  the  sense  of 
muscular  movement  still  remain.  "  I  have  seen/'  says 
Dr.  Brown-Sequard,  "  a  child  completely  deprived  of 
cutaneous  sensibility  (unable  to  feel  contact,  pressure, 
pricking,  pinching,  cold,  or  heat),  yet  able  to  walk  well 
without  looking  at  its  feet,  and  undoubtedly  owing  this 
power  to  the  persistence  of  guiding  sensations  in  the 
muscles."  Others  hold  that  the  muscular  feeling  is  de- 
rived from  the  outgoing  current  ;2  but,  says  Dr.  Bastian, 
"  The  impressions  derived  from  muscular  movements  are 
neither  anterior  to,  nor  concomitants  of,  outgoing  cur- 
rents, but  strictly  sequential  to  the  passage  of  such 
currents,  —  that  they  are  in  fact  due  to  ingoing  currents 
derived  from  the  moving  parts  themselves". 

There  is  only  one  way  in  which  this  can  be  explained  — 
namely,  that  the  nerves  which  convey  the  impulse  from 
the  brain  to  the  muscles  serve  also  to  carry  back  an 
impression  from  th^^^es  to  the  brain.  Thus  while 
an  impulse  proceeds  from  the  brain  to  the  muscles 
along  the  efferent  nerves,  an  impression  must  also  be 


his  admirable  treatise  on  Physiology,  Schiff  maintains  that 
all  the  phenomena  attributed  to  the  muscular  sense  are  due  to  the 
foldings  and  stretchings  of  the  skin  when  the  muscles  contract."  — 
6?.  H.  Lewes.  "  The  muscles  themselves  receive  no  true  sensitive 
nerves,  but  we  obtain  knowledge  of  their  action  through  the  change 
which,  in  motion,  they  occasion  in  the  sensitive  skin."  —  Prof,  van  der 
Kolk. 

'*  *  As  the  nerves  supplied  to  the  muscles  are  principally  motor 
nerves,  by  which  the  muscular  movements  are  stimulated  from  the 
brain  and  nerve  centres,  our  safest  assumption  is  that  the  sensibility 
accompanying  muscular  movement  coincides  with  the  outgoing  stream 
of  nervous  energy.  .  .  ,  We  are  bound  to  presume  that  this  (sensi- 
bility) is  the  concomitant  of  the  outgoing  current  by  which  tbe 
muscles  are  stimulated  to  act."  —  Prof.  Bain. 


144  MEMORY. 

conveyed  from  the  muscles  to  the  brain  along  the  same 
nerves ;  and  if  in  the  efferent,  so  also  in  the  afferent 
nerves  there  must  be  a  double  motion,  the  one  con- 
veying an  impression  from  the  organ  of  sense  to  the 
brain,  the  other  proceeding  from  the  brain  to  the  organ 
of  sense.  The  impulse  which  originates  in  the  organ 
of  sense  and  passes  inward  to  the  brain  does  not  termi- 
nate there,  but  gives  rise  to  secondary  movements 
which  proceed  from  the  brain  to  the  organ  of  sense.1 
If  we  stand  by  the  seashore  observing  the  waves  as  they 
come  in,  we  see  that  each  as  it  reaches  its  termination 
on  the  beach  gives  rise  to  a  number  of  wavelets,  which 
pass  outward  in  the  opposite  direction.  This  is  what 
we  believe  takes  place  in  the  nerves, — that  sensory 
nerves,  while  primarily  afferent,  are  secondarily  efferent, 
and  motor  nerves,  while  primarily  efferent,  are  second- 
arily afferent. 

We  find  evidence  in  support  of  this  view  in  the  dis- 
tinction that  is  drawn  by  philosophers  between  sensa- 
tion and  perception.1  In  sensation,  strictly  so  called, 

1 "  When  a  nerve  acts  upon  a  muscle,  the  muscle  reacts  on  the 
nerve ;  and  when  a  nerve  acts  upon  a  centre,  the  centre  reacts  on 
the  nerve.  The  agitation  of  the  central  tissue  cannot  leave  the  nerve 
which  blends  with  it  unaffected  ;  the  agitation  of  the  muscular  tissue 
must  also  by  a  reversal  of  the  current  affect  its  nerve." — G.  H.  Lewes. 

2  "  When  I  smell  a  rose  there  is  in  this  operation  both  sensation 
and  perception.  The  agreeable  odour  I  feel,  considered  by  itself 
without  relation  to  any  external  object,  is  merely  a  sensation.  It 
affects  the  mind  in  a  certain  way  ;  and  this  affection  of  the  mind 
may  be  conceived  without  a  thought  of  the  rose  or  any  other  object. 
...  In  sensation  there  is  no  object  distinct  from  that  act  of  the 
mind  by  which  it  is  felt.  .  .  .  Perception  has  always  an  external 
object,  and  the  object  of  my  perception  in  this  case  is  that  quality 
in  the  rose  which  I  discern  by  the  sense  of  smell." — Dr.  T.  Reid. 
u  For  the  production  of  a  sensation  a  conscious  state  of  mind  is  all 
that  is  required  ;  whilst,  on  the  other  hand,  for  the  exercise  of  the 
perceptive  power,  a  certain  degree  of  attention  is  requisite ;  or,  in 
other  words,  the  mind  must  be  directed  towards  the  sensation." — Dr 
Carpenter. 


THE    SENSES.  145 

ft  wave  of  influence  passes  inward  from  the  organ  of 
sense  to  the  brain,  and  occasions  a  feeling ;  whereas  in 
perception  the  mind  passes  out  towards  something 
external  to  itself,  and  obtains  a  knowledge  of  it.  In 
sensation  the  mind  is  simply  conscious  of  a  subjective 
feeling;  "while  in  perception,"  says  Dr.  Ueberweg, 
"  it  goes  out  upon  something  that  has  been  perceived, 
and  which,  therefore,  whether  it  belongs  to  the  outer 
world  or  to  the  subject  itself,  opposes  itself  to  the  act 
of  perception  as  something  different".1  In  sensation 
the  mind  is  merely  passive,  whereas  in  perception  it  is 
active.  "  Sensation  taken  in  itself,"  says  Dr.  T.  Eeid, 
"  implies  neither  the  conception  nor  belief  of  any 
external  object.  .  .  .  Perception  implies  an  immediate 
conviction  and  belief  of  something  external, — something 
different  both  from  the  mind  that  perceives  and  from 
the  act  of  perception." 

Children  at  first  have  sensations  without  perceptions ; 
that  is,  they  cannot  localise  their  sensations  or  refer 
them  to  anything  out  of  themselves.  Hence,  while 
they  feel  the  pain  occasioned  by  the  surgeon's  lancet, 
they  do  not  know  its  seat  or  the  cause  from  which  it 
springs,  and  so  their  efforts  are  not  directed  to  its 
removal.2  In  later  life  we  never  have  a  sensation  with- 
out a  perception,  without  referring  it  to  something 
external  to  the  mind.8  If  I  prick  my  finger  I  am  at 

1 "  A  cognition  is  objective ;  that  is,  our  consciousness  is  then 
relative  to  something  different  from  the  present  state  of  the  mind 
itself.  A  feeling,  on  the  contrary,  is  subjective  ;  that  is,  our  con- 
sciousness  is  exclusively  limited  to  the  pleasure  or  pain  experienced 
by  the  thinking  subject."— Sir  W.  Hamilton. 

*  "  Every  surgeon  knows  that  the  young  infant  may  be  allowed 
to  have  his  hands  free  when  operated  on,  because  it  cannot  with  its 
hands  interfere  with  the  knife,  not  as  yet  knowing  where  the  seat  of 
pain  is." — G.  H.  Lewes. 

8  "  We  never  now  experience  a  sensation  without  assigning  it  a 
place."— H.  Tain*. 


146  MEMOET. 

first  only  sensible  of  the  pain,  but  immediately  after- 
wards I  distinguish  it  as  a  particular  kind  of  pain, 
located  in  a  particular  place,  and  caused  by  a  particular 
instrument. 

The  importance  of  this  doctrine,  of  each  class  of 
nerves  being  capable  of  conveying  impressions  in  both 
directions,  is,  that  it  enables  us  to  explain  in  what  way 
the  mind  proceeds  from  the  brain  to  the  organs  of 
sense  or  the  muscles  in  recalling  past  sensations  or 
movements.  Unless  the  same  parts  are  concerned  in 
the  recalled  sensation  as  were  active  in  the  original, 
we  cannot  imagine  that  they  would  so  closely  resemble 
each  other.  That  the  retina  is  concerned  in  the  recall- 
ing of  an  object  of  sight  appears  to  be  proved  by  the 
fact  already  mentioned  (p.  33),  that  when  we  think 
intently  upon  a  particular  colour,  with  the  eyes  closed, 
the  retina  becomes  exhausted,  as  regards  that  colour, 
in  the  same  way  as  if  it  were  actually  contemplating  it, 
and  the  object  assumes  the  appearance  of  the  comple- 
mentary colour.1  What  holds  true  in  regard  to  sight 
is  doubtless  true  also  in  regard  to  the  other  senses. 
And  as  with  the  senses  so  with  the  muscles.  These 
grow,  and  develop,  and  gather  strength  in  the  direction 
in  which  they  are  exercised,  so  that  what  was  at  first 
difficult  and  disagreeable  becomes  by  degrees  easy  and 
natural.  This,  doubtless,  depends  upon  changes 
wrought  in  the  muscles  themselves,  and  not  on  the 
nerves  or  nerve  centres,  which,  as  we  have  seen  (p.  84), 
simply  supply  the  stimulus  by  which  the  energies  stored 

1  "  Newton,  Johannes  Miiller,  and  Hermann  Meyer  have  recorded 
how,  after  intently  thinking  with  closed  eyes  of  some  particular 
colour,  the  retina  becomes  as  exhausted  by  the  image  as  if  it  had 
been  exposed  to  an  objective  stimulus  of  colour,  so  that  on  opening 
the  eyes  ocular  spectra  intercept  the  objective  stimulus."--*?.  Mt 
Lewe*. 


THE   SENSES.  147 

up  in  the  muscles  are  set  in  motion.1  It  is  the  muscles 
then,  rather  than  the  nerve  centres,  that  form  the  seat 
of  the  memory  of  past  muscular  activities. 

In  sensation  the  movement  originates  in  the  organ  of 
sense,  and  is  conveyed  to  the  brain ;  while  in  motion  it 
originates  in  the  brain  and  passes  onward  to  the  motor 
organs.  In  recollection  the  reverse  of  this  takes  place. 
When  we  recall  a  past  sensation  the  movement  origi- 
nates in  the  brain,  and  is  conveyed  along  the  afferent 
nerves  to  the  organ  of  sense  ;  and  in  recalling  a  motion 
previously  made,  the  mind  refers  to  the  muscles  and 
a  stimulus  received  from  them  is  conveyed  along 
the  efferent  nerves  to  the  brain,  like  a  tactile  stimulus 
along  a  nerve  of  touch.  That  the  brain  should  be 
able  to  originate  movement  in  an  afferent  nerve  is  not 
more  strange  than  that  it  should  originate  it  in  an 
efferent  nerve.  In  the  one  case,  as  in  the  other,  the 
mind  originates  the  movement  that  takes  place. 

In  our  view,  then,  we  cannot  remember  a  thing  per- 
fectly by  means  of  the  brain  alone,  but  must  also  call 
into  exercise  other  parts  of  the  system,  especially  the 
organs  of  sense,  or  the  muscles.  Defects  of  memory 
are,  we  believe,  mainly  owing  to  this,  that  recollection 
is  made  too  much  an  intellectual  operation  depending 
on  the  brain,  without  any  organ  of  sense  or  other  part 

1  u  A  daily  experience  teaches  ns  that  a  muscle  becomes  the 
stronger  the  more  we  use  it.  The  muscular  fibre,  which  in  the  first 
instance  may  have  answered  but  feebly  to  the  stimulus  conducted  to 
it  by  the  motor  nerve,  does  so  with  the  greater  energy  the  more  often 
it  is  stimulated,  provided,  of  course,  that  reasonable  times  are  allowed 
for  repose.  After  each  individual  action  it  becomes  more  capable, 
more  disposed  towards  the  same  kind  of  work,  and  has  a  greater 
aptitude  for  repetition  cf  tne  same  organic  processes.  It  gains  also  in 
weight,  for  it  assimilates  more  matter  than  when  constantly  at  rest. 
.  .  .  And  what  is  known  thus  certainly  from  muscle  substance  holdi 
good,  with  greater  or  less  plainness,  ibr  all  our  organs." — Dr.  E* 
Hering, 


148  MEMORY. 

being  brought  into  operation.  When  the  brain  alone 
is  called  into  activity,  then  is  the  memory  of  the  fact 
imperfect,  and  this  is  the  character  of  the  great  majority 
of  our  recollections.  We  are  content  with  only  a  par* 
tial  recall,  in  which  none  of  the  senses  or  any  other 
part,  but  only  the  brain,  is  concerned.  When  this  is 
indulged  in  to  any  great  extent,  not  only  is  the  memory 
weakened,  but  mind-wandering  is  induced,  in  which 
the  individual  is  unable  to  concentrate  his  attention  on 
one  subject  for  any  length  of  time,  but  allows  it  to 
wander  away  in  other  directions  on  the  least  sugges- 
tion. The  cure  for  this 'mind-wandering  is  the  training 
of  the  mind  to  recall  things,  not  partially,  but  fully  and 
completely,  by  bringing  into  activity  not  the  brain  alone, 
but  likewise  the  appropriate  organs  of  sense,  or  the 
muscles.  When  this  is  the  case,  the  recalled  sensations 
or  movements  are  represented  to  the  mind  in  their  most 
complete  form,  the  form  in  which  they  take  the  strongest 
hold  on  the  mind,  and  which  it  will  not  let  go  on  every 
slight  occasion. 

It  naturally  follows  from  this,  that  when  an  organ  of 
sense  is  totally  destroyed,  the  memory  of  the  sensations 
that  were  received  through  that  sense  will  be  impaired, 
and  in  time  probably  lost.  This,  then,  appears  to  be 
the  case.  Sir  W.  Hamilton  says :  "  There  are  many 
cases  recorded  by  medical  men  of  persons  losing  their 
sight  who  have  also  lost  the  faculty  of  representing  the 
images  of  visible  objects.  They  no  longer  call  up  such 
objects  by  reminiscence ;  they  no  longer  dream  of  them. 
.  .  .  Similar  cases  are  recorded  in  regard  to  the  deaf." 
Dr.  E.  Darwin  mentions  a  gentleman  he  knew,  about 
60  years  of  age,  and  who  had  been  totally  deaf  for  nearly 
30  years,  who  assured  him  that  in  his  dreams  he  always 
imagined  that  people  conversed  with  him  by  signs  or 


THE   SENSES.  149 

writing,  and  never  that  he  heard  anyone  speak  to  him. 
In  blindness,  he  says,  "it  rarely  happens  that  the  im- 
mediate organ  of  vision  is  perfectly  destroyed.  The 
most  frequent  causes  of  blindness  are  occasioned  by 
defects  of  the  external  organ,  as  in  cataracts  and  ob- 
fuscations  of  the  cornea.  But  I  have  had  the  opportunity 
of  conversing  with  two  men  who  had  been  some  years 
blind ;  one  of  them  had  a  complete  gutta  serena,  and 
the  other  had  lost  the  whole  substance  of  his  eyes. 
They  both  told  me  that  they  do  not  remember  to  have 
ever  dreamt  of  visible  objects  since  the  total  loss  of 
their  sight."  The  brain  may  probably  be  able  to  recall 
sensations  connected  with  an  organ  of  sense  after  the 
organ  itself  has  been  destroyed,  in  such  a  way  that  to 
the  superficial  observation  of  the  person  himself  there 
may  appear  to  be  little  or  no  difference,  and  yet  in 
reality  the  difference  may  be  very  great. 

But  not  only  is  the  memory  not  alone  confined  to 
the  brain,  but  there  is  every  reason  to  believe  that  the 
mind  itself  is  not  confined  to  that  organ,  but  is  diffused 
throughout  the  system  at  least  as  far  as  the  nerves 
extend,  and  they  stretch  to  all  parts  of  the  body.1 
"  There  is  no  good  ground  to  suppose/*  says  Sir  W. 

1  "  The  brain  is  universally  held  to  be  the  organ  of  the  mind," 
but  "  I  do  not  agree  in  this  opinion.  .  .  .  The  brain  is  only  one 
organ  of  the  mind,  and  not  by  any  means  the  exclusive  centre  of 
consciousness." — G.  H.  Lewes.  "The  facts  of  physiology  rightly 
interpreted  lead  irresistibly  to  the  conclusion  that  sensation  is  not 
confined  to  the  brain,  but  is  spread  over  the  whole  sensory  system. 
Wherever  there  is  a  sensory  nerve  there  there  may  be  a  sensation." 
— Dr.  J.  Cunningham.  "  We  do  not  assert  that  the  mental  principle 
has  its  seat  in  the  brain  alone.  It  is  possible  for  the  mind  to  act 
and  receive  impressions  by  means  of  one  organ  of  a  determinate 
structure,  and  yet  be  present  generally  throughout  the  body.  .  .  . 
The  mental  principle  or  cause  of  the  mental  phenomena,  viz.,  the 
conception  of  ideas,  thought,  &c.,  cannot  be  confined  to  the  brain/1 
but  "exists,  though  in  a  latent  state,  in  every  part  of  the  organism", 
—Dr.  J.  Miiller. 
12 


150  MEMOB7. 

Hamilton,  "that  the  mind  ia  situate  solely  in  the 
brain,  or  exclusively  in  any  one  part  of  the  body.  .  .  . 
Even  if  we  admit  that  the  nervous  system  is  the  part 
to  which  it  is  proximately  united,  still  the  nervous  sys- 
tem is  itself  universally  ramified  throughout  the  body ; 
and  we  have  no  more  right  to  deny  that  the  mind  feels 
at  the  finger-points,  as  consciousness  assures  us,  than 
to  assert  that  it  thinks  exclusively  in  the  brain." l  "I 
for  one,"  says  Prof.  Cleland,  "most  strenuously  deny" 
that  the  cerebral  hemispheres  are  "  the  only  parts  con- 
nected with  the  mind.  ...  I  do  not  think  that  sensation 
can  be  accounted  for  without  believing  that  conscious- 
ness works  in  connection  with  as  much  of  the  nervous 
system  as  is  at  any  one  time  united  to  the  brain  by 
nerve  channels  in  an  active  state."  "  This  view,"  says 
Prof.  M'Kendrick,  "is  quite  consistent  with  all  the 
facts  of  nervous  physiology,  and  presents  fewer  diffi- 
culties than  the  one  generally  held,  which  drives  con- 
sciousness into  the  recesses  of  the  nerve  cells  in  the 
cortex  of  the  cerebral  hemispheres.  It  appears  to  keep 
clear  of  the  prevailing  error  in  the  philosophy  of  modern 
physiology,  that  of  regarding  the  body,  and  even  the 
nervous  system,  as  a  vast  series  of  almost  independent 
organs,  losing  sight  of  the  community  of  function  and 
interdependence  of  parts,  characteristic  of  the  body  of 
one  of  the  higher  animals." 

It  would  therefore  seem  that  the  organ  of  the  mind 

1  M  The  mind  is  not,  as  we  suppose,  the  prisoner  of  the  attic  storey, 
but  is  the  occupant  at  large  of  the  entire  animal  organisation,  acting 
in  each  part  of  the  structure  according  to  the  purpose  of  each :  in  the 
arm  and  leg  willing  the  "limb  hither  and  thither  by  its  inherent 
power  over  matter,  in  the  skin,  the  eye,  the  ear,  the  tongue,  the 
nasal  membrane  receiving  immediately  the  impressions  of  external 
objects  by  its  inherent  susceptibility  oi5  the  properties  of  matter,  and 
let  it  be  granted,  within  the  cranium  carrying  on  the  processes  of 
thought." — Isaac  Taylor. 


THE   SENSES.  151 

is  not  the  brain  alone,  but  the  whole  nervous  system. 
"In  place  of  holding,"  says  Sir  W.  Hamilton,  "that 
the  mind  is  connected  with  the  body  only  at  the 
central  extremity  of  the  nervous  system,  it  is  more 
simple  and  philosophical  to  suppose  that  it  is  united  with 
the  nervous  system  in  its  whole  extent."  The  whole 
nervous  system  is,  in  fact,  to  be  regarded  as  forming 
one  organ,  the  ganglia  and  nerves  being,  in  fact,  but 
continuations  of  the  brain,  and  the  mind  being  present 
in  all  their  parts.1  The  axis-cylinder  of  the  nerve  fibre 
and  the  protoplasmic  matter  of  the  nerve  cell  are  not  only 
directly  continuous,  but  are  constitutionally  the  same.2 
Physiologists  are  shut  up  to  the  doctrine  that  the 
mind  has  its  seat  only  in  the  brain  so  long  as  they  hold 

1  "  Virtually  the  brain  is  prolonged  by  these  communicating  fibrils 
to  the  eye,  the  ear,  the  nose,  the  mouth,  the  skin." — Edinburgh  Review. 

2  "  Anatomists  are  now  tolerably  unanimous  as  to  the  axis-cylinder 
being  identical  with  the  protoplasmic  ^cell  substance." — G.  H.  Lewes. 
"  The  nerve  substance,  in  spite  of  its  thousandfold  subdivision  as 
cells  and  fibres,  forms  nevertheless  a  united  whole  which  is  present 
directly  in  all  organs." — Dr.  E.  Hering.      The   brain   and   nerves 
"  taken  together  form  what  is  truly  one  complicated  sensorial  organ 
— the  organ  of  all  our  sensations  according  to  the  different  states  in 
which  the  organ  exists,  or  the  different  parts  of  it  which  are  chiefly 
affected". — Dr.  Thos.  Brown.     According  to  Mr.  H.  Spencer,  "  the 
nervous  system  consists  of  one  kind  of  matter  under  different  forms 
and  conditions.     In  the  grey  tissue  this  matter  exists  in  masses  con- 
taining corpuscles  which   are  soft,   and    have   granules  dispersed 
through  them,  and  which,  besides  being  thus  unstably  composed, 
are  placed  so  as  to  be  liable  to  disturbance  in  the  greatest  possible 
degree.      In  the  white  tissue  this  matter  is  collected  together  in 
extremely  slender  threads,  that  are  denser,  that  are  uniform  in  tex- 
ture, and  that  are  shielded  in  an  unusual  manner  from  disturbing 
forces,  except  at  their  two  extremities."    The  functions  discharged 
by  the  two  substances  are  not  absolutely  distinct     "On  the  one 
hand,  the  vesicular  substance,  having  for  its  chief  office  to  give  out 
molecular  motion  when  disturbed,  has  also  a  considerable  power  of 
conveying  or  conducting  molecular  motion."      Conversely,    "the 
matter  forming  the  'axis-cylinder,'  or  essential  nerve  thread,  has  a 
certain  power  of  simultaneously  giving  out  molecular  motion,  BO 
lharing  the  property  of  the  vesicular  matter". — Herbert  Spencer. 


152  MEMORY, 

the  opinion  that  sensory  nerves  are  capable  of  con- 
veying impressions  only  in  one  direction.  The  sensa- 
tion, they  say,  passes  to  the  brain,  and  there  it  stops. 
No  impulse  from  the  brain  can  pass  along  a  sensory 
nerve,  nor  can  the  mind  itself  by  any  possibility  traverse 
the  nerve  to  the  organ  of  sense.  If  I  touch  the  table 
with  my  hand  consciousness  tells  me  that  I  have  the 
feeling  in  my  hand,  but  the  physiologist  says  that  I  can 
only  have  it  in  the  brain,  because  sensory  nerves  can 
convey  impressions  only  to  the  brain.  But  if,  as  we 
have  endeavoured  to  show,  sensory  nerves  convey  im- 
pressions in  both  directions,  then  consciousness  may 
after  all  be  right,  and  a  stimulus  pass  outward  from 
the  brain  to  the  hand  to  constitute  an  act  of  perception. 
"  We  have  no  reason  whatever,"  says  Sir  W.  Hamilton, 
"  to  doubt  the  report  of  consciousness,  that  we  actually 
perceive  at  the  external  point  of  sensation,  and  that  we 
perceive  the  external  reality."  "  We  are  in  the  habit 
of  saying,"  remarks  Dr.  Abercrombie,  "that  the  im- 
pressions are  conveyed  to  the  brain,  but  even  in  this 
we  may  probably  advance  a  step  beyond  what  is  war- 
ranted. We  know  that  the  nerves  derive  their  influence 
from  the  connection  with  the  brain,  or  as  forming  along 
with  it  one  great  medium  of  sensation ;  but  we  do  not 
know  whether  impressions  made  upon  the  nervous 
fabric  connected  with  the  organs  of  sense  are  conveyed 
to  the  brain,  or  whether  the  mind  perceives  them 
directly  as  they  are  made  upon  the  organs  of  sense." 
The  view  advanced  by  Prof.  Cleland  is,  "  that  when  an 
irritation  is  applied  to  a  nerve  extremity  in  a  finger  or 
elsewhere,  the  impression  (or  rather  impressed  condi- 
tion) travels,  as  is  generally  understood,  to  the  brain, 
but  exists  for  at  least  a  moment  along  the  whole  length 
of  the  nerve,  and  that  as  soon  as  there  is  continuity  of 


THE   SENSES.  153 

the  impressed  condition  from  finger  to  brain  the  con- 
sciousness is  in  connection  with  the  nerve,  and  is 
directly  aware  of  the  irritation  at  the  nerve  extremity". 
This  goes  to  support  the  notion  that  in  sensation  con- 
sciousness is  in  direct  connection  with  the  organ  of 
sense,  and  that  what  we  feel  is  felt  there,  and  not 
merely  in  the  brain ;  but  it  gives  no  support  to  that  for 
which  we  contend,  that  in  recalling  a  past  sensation 
the  mind  refers  to  the  special  organ  of  sense  which  was 
originally  concerned  in  it,  though  the  two  are  nearly 
connected.  Only  the  hypothesis  of  the  existence  of 
two  kinds  of  motion  in  the  nerves  will  meet  and  ex- 
plain both  cases. 

The  great  use  of  the  senses  is  to  impart  to  us  a 
knowledge  of  the  world  in  which  we  live  and  act,  in 
order  that  we  may  act  wisely  and  live  well  in  all  the 
relations  of  life.1  The  fuller  and  more  accurate  our 
knowledge  of  the  world  around  us,  and  of  the  laws  in 
accordance  with  which  all  its  operations  are  carried  on, 
the  more  will  our  actions  be  characterised  by  wisdom 
and  prudence.  Accuracy  and  keenness  of  observation 
are  essential  to  success  in  life.2  Men  must  observe 
accurately  before  they  can  reason  correctly.  Most  of 
the  errors  that  prevail  in  the  world  spring  not  so  much 
from  illogical  reasoning  as  from  ipaccurate  observation.3 

1  "  The  senses  supply  the  basis  for  the  whole  action  of  man  upon 
the  outer  world." — H.  Helmholtz.  "What  is  the  part  played  by 
knowledge  ?  Its  highest  no  less  than  its  lowest  aim  is  guidance  in 
action." — G.  H.  Lewes. 

2 "  One  of  the  principal  forms  of  human  intelligence  consists  of 
a  permanent  hold  of  the  external  world  as  it  strikes  the  senses." — 
Prof.  Bain.  This  "gives  us  a  sort  of  foresight  which  enables  us  to 
regulate  our  actions  for  the  benefit  of  life,  and  without  this  we  should 
be  eternally  at  a  loss  :  we  should  no.  know  how  to  act  anything 
that  might  procure  us  the  least  pleasure  or  remove  the  least  pain  of 
sense". — Bishop  Berkeley. 

*  "  The  errors  in  the  world  come  leas  from  illogical  reasoning  than 


154  ,MEMORY. 

Further,  the  laws  of  onr  mental  life  are  such  that  it 
is  constantly  necessary  to  bring  our  ideal  knowledge  to 
the  touchstone  of  experience  and  fact.  The  mind  is 
ever  prone  to  form  ideas  and  construct  theories  of 
things.  This  is  its  nature  and  office,  but  it  is  to  be 
borne  in  mind  that  these  ideas  and  theories  are  only  of 
use  to  us  as  they  correspond  with  and  represent  external 
realities.  "Without  this,  in  place  of  leading  us  to  right 
action,  they  may  lead  us  into  the  greatest  blunders  and 
land  us  in  inextricable  confusion.  It  is  therefore  of  the 
greatest  importance  ever  to  maintain  the  closest  and 
most  intimate  connection  between  the  two — the  real 
and  the  ideal.  The  real  serves  to  give  clearness,  fixed- 
ness, and  permanence  to  the  ideal ;  the  ideal  to  mould, 
fashion,  guide,  direct,  arrange  the  real. 

Formerly  men  were  wont  to  rear  huge  scientific 
structures  upon  a  few  loosely  observed  facts ;  but  now, 
perhaps  one  of  the  most  marked  and  promising  features 
of  the  present  day  is  the  attempt  in  all  cases  to  establish 
a  wide  basis  of  facts,  and  from  these  to  rigidly 
deduce  the  principles  they  embody  or  the  truths  they 
contain. 

from  inaccurate  observation  and  careless  hearing.  Most  men  see  as 
much  with  their  preoccupied  imagination  as  with  their  eyes,  and  do 
not  know  how  to  separate  their  own  fancies,  or  their  erroneous  in- 
terpretation of  a  fact,  from  the  observed  fact  itself." — Dr.  Thos.  Hill. 
"  Nothing,  in  fact,  is  more  difficult  than  to  have  a  clear  and  precise 
appreciation  of  real  things.  The  minute  care  taken  by  physicists 
and  chemists,  and  the  infinite  precautions  with  which  they  surround 
themselves,  in  order  to  appreciate  simple  physical  phenomena,  show 
us  how  frequent  are  the  causes  of  error,  and  how  liable  to  deception 
is  all  observation  ;  since  we  so  often  find  two  observers,  in  the  pre- 
sence of  the  same  physical  and  palpable  phenomenon,  each  describing 
it  in  his  own  fashion,  and  each  giving  a  very  different  report  re- 
specting it." — J.  Luys.  According  to  Kant,  the  senses  never  deceive 
us,  not  because  they  always  judge  correctly,  but  because  they  never 
judge  at  all.  The  error  lies  in  the  inference  which  is  drawn  from 
the  sensation. 


THE   SENSES.  155 

What  we  have  further  to  say  on  the  subject  of  the 
senses  will  regard  them  principally  as  individuals,  and 
be  mainly  directed  to  their  training  and  cultivation,  as 
this  we  regard  as  the  great  means  of  improving  and 
strengthening  the  memory.  In  all  training  of  the 
senses  our  endeavour  must  be  to  bring  them  to  distin- 
guish minute  shades  of  difference.1  The  acuteness  of 
any  sense  depends  upon  its  power  of  discrimination. 
Not  to  be  able  to  distinguish  between  one  colour  and 
another,  or  one  sound,  taste,  or  smell,  and  another,  is 
to  be  so  far  defective  in  these  senses ;  and,  on  the 
other  hand,  to  be  able  to  distinguish  them  in  a  high 
degree  is  to  have  these  senses  in  a  high  state  of  per- 
fection. We  must,  therefore,  in  the  training  of  the 
senses,  exercise  them  in  distinguishing  minute  shades 
of  difference  in  their  objects.2 

Wherever  we  can  distinguish  one  object,  or  one  part 
of  an  object,  from  another,  we  must  believe  that  there 
is  a  like  distinction  in  the  physical  conditions  under 

1  w  Every  case  in  which  an  advancing  intelligence  distinguishes 
between  objects  or  phenomena  or  laws  that  were  previously  con- 
founded together  as  of  like  kind,  implies  a  differentiation  of  states  of 
consciousness."    We  see  "  in  the  series  of  phases  through  which  each 
sense  advances  towards  perfection"  that  "every  higher  phase  shows 
itself  as  an  ability  to  recognise  smaller  and  smaller  differences,  either 
of  kind  or  degree,  in  the  attributes  of  surrounding  bodies". — H. 
Spencer.     "  The  more  perceptive  the  senses  are  of  difference,  the 
larger  is  the  field  upon  which  our  judgment  and  intelligence  can 
act.    Sensation  mounts  through  a  series  of  grades  of  *  just  perceptible 
differences'." — Francis  Gallon.    "The  discriminative  faculty  of  idiots 
is  curiously  low ;  they  hardly  distinguish  between  heat  and  cold,  and 
their  sense  of  pain  is  so  obtuse  that  some  of  the  more  idiotic  seem 
hardly  to  know  what  it  is."— Ditto.     Esquirol  has  connected  the 
inaptitude  of  idiots  and  imbeciles,  for  education,  with  their  dull  sen- 
sibility.   They  see  badly,  hear  badly,  feel  badly,  and  their  sensorium 
is  in  consequence  in  a  similar  condition  of  sensitive  poverty. 

2  "  By  merely  practising  the  organs  they  become  more  discrimina- 
tive, and  differences  are  felt  after  a  time  that  would  originally  havt 
been  unfelt."— Pro/,  Bain. 


156  MEMORY. 

which  we  perceive  them — that  the  course  pursued  by 
the  one,  or  the  parts  affected  by  the  one,  differ  in  some 
measure  from  those  affected  by  the  other.1  Where  we 
cannot  make  such  distinction,  where  the  two  seem  so 
nearly  identical  that  we  cannot  distinguish  the  one  from 
the  other,  we  may  take  it  for  granted  that  the  same 
parts  are  concerned  in  both.2  The  aim  of  all  training 
of  the  senses  being  to  bring  them  to  distinguish  minute 
differences,  the  physical  effect  of  this  must  be  to 
introduce  differences  in  the  parts  concerned,  to  restrict 
more  and  more  each  sensation  to  a  distinct  and  more 
limited  part  of  the  organism.  It  is  characteristic  of  all 
untrained  activity  that  it  is  diffusive,  while  the  effect  of 
all  training  is  to  limit  and  confine  mental  power  to 
special  channels.8  The  more  the  mind  is  concentrated 
upon  a  particular  object,  or  its  activity  confined  to  a 
particular  part,  the  greater  its  power  and  force.  The 
more  we  limit  the  parts  concerned  in  any  act  of  per- 
ception or  other  act,  the  more  easily  and  efficiently  is 
it  performed,  and  the  more  readily  is  it  fixed  upon  the 
memory.  Hence  in  our  remarks  on  the  individual  senses 

1  w  There  is  a  change  made  in  the  medullary  substance  propor- 
tional and  correspondent  to  every  change  in  the  sensations." — D. 
Hartley.    "  Each  distinct  mode  of  consciousness,  each  distinct  adhe- 
sive grouping,  would  appear  to  appropriate  a  distinct  track  of  nervous 
communications  involving  a  definite  number  of  fibres  and  of  cells  or 
corpuscles." — Prof.  Bain.     "  We  have  the  strongest  reasons  for  con- 
cluding  that   every  feeling,   every  change  in   sensibility,  has  its 
coi  relative  material  process  in  the  organism — is,  in  short,  only  the 
subjective  aspect  of  the  objective  organic  change." — G.  H.  Lewes. 

2  "  Two  objects  completely  similar,  or  which  determine  undistin- 
guishable  impressions  upon  us,  are  as  if  they  were  identical."—  Sir 
W.  Hamilton. 

1 "  The  boy  when  first  learning  to  write  is  unable  to  prevent  the 
simultaneous  motions  of  tongue  and  legs,  which  are  ludicrously 
irrelevant  to  the  purpose  of  writing  ;  but  he  learns  to  keep  all  hia 
organs  in  subjection,  and  only  the  eyes  and  hands  active.  An  analo* 
gous  restriction  takes  place  in  thinking." — G.  H.  Lewes. 


THE    SENSES.  157 

we  shall  treat  them  as  much  as  possible  analytically. 
(See  Chapter  VII.,  "  Attention".) 

The  muscular  sense  is  that  by  which  we  are  made 
acquainted  with  the  state  and  con Jition  of  the  muscles, 
particularly  when  in  action,  and  are  thereby  enabled  to 
direct  and  control  their  movements.1  It  may  be  re- 
garded as  a  sort  of  internal  sense  of  touch,  having  its 
seat  in  the  muscles,  and  revealing  the  state  of  their 
tension,  in  place  of  in  the  skin  and  acted  upon  by  con- 
tact with  foreign  bodies.2  These  two  senses  have, 
indeed,  much  in  common,  and  they  generally  go  toge- 
ther, as  in  judging  of  weight,  pressure,  force,  resistance, 
hardness,  softness,  &c.  The  sense  of  touch  is  more  or 
less  diffused  over  the  body,  while  the  muscular  sense  is 
confined  to  the  muscles,  especially  such  as  are  volun- 
tary. The  end  plates  in  which  the  muscular  nerves 
terminate,  embracing  as  they  do  one-third  or  more  of 
the  circumference  of  their  respective  fibres,  are  particu- 
larly fitted  for  ascertaining  the  state  of  the  muscles. 
It  is  by  means  of  the  muscular  sense  that  we  are  made 
aware  of  the  effort  put  forth  in  performing  the  different 
movements  of  the  body,  and  are  thus  able  to  direct  and 
control  them.3  Without  it  all  voluntary  movement — 

1  It  is  by  means  of  the  muscular  sense  "  that  we  become  conscious 
of  the  existing  state  of  the  muscles  which  are  subject  to  the  will,  or 
rather  to  the  position  and  direction  of  the  limbs  and  other  parts 
which  are  moved  through  means  of  the  voluntary  muscles,  and  we 
are  thereby  guided  in  directing  our  voluntary  movements  towards 
the  end  in  view  ". — Quain's  Anatomy. 

*  "  The  nerves  of  the  muscles  differ  from  those  of  the  skin  only  . .  . 
by  terminating  in  the  muscles  and  being  excited  by  the  stretching 
out  or  shortening  of  the  muscles.  But  here  there  is  no  difference  of 
action,  the  difference  is  in  the  excitant." — H.  Taine.  "  In  every 
different  contraction  of  the  muscles  there  is  a  difference  of  sensation." 
—-/as.  Mill. 

1  "  A  harmonious  combination  of  muscular  actions  must  depend 
...  on  the  capability  of  appreciating  the  condition  of  the  muscles 
with  regard  to  their  teusioii,  and  to  the  force  with  which  they  are 


158  MEMORY. 

movement  directed  by  the  will — would  be  impossible, 
except  in  so  far  as  one  of  the  other  senses  might  be 
able  to  supply  its  place.1 

The  muscular  sense  is  that  which  is  first  brought 
into  action ;  for  as  motion  precedes  sensation,  the  fact 
of  our  having  moved  "  must  be  made  known  to  us  by 
some  feeling  connected  with  the  act  itself.  .  .  .  "We 
cannot  as  yet  see  that  our  limb  moves ;  we  must  there- 
fore in  some  manner  feel  that  it  does  so ;  and  this,  in 
point  of  fact,  is  effected  by  means  of  the  muscular  sen- 
sations of  the  limb  itself." — Dean  Mansel. 

By  means  of  this  sense  we  discriminate  (1)  between 
different  degrees  of  exertion  put  forth,  or  called  out ;  (2) 
the  duration  of  different  muscular  sensations,  giving  an 
idea  of  time,  as  also  of  space  in  movement  through 
space ;  and  (3)  between  the  speed  or  velocity  of  diffe- 
rent movements.  We  thus  by  it  determine  the  resist- 
ance of  bodies,  their  force,  weight,  and  other  mechanical 
properties  ;  measure  distances  and  velocities ;  and  ascer- 
tain the  form,  size,  position,  and  so  forth  of  external 
objects. 

Our  muscular  movements  greatly  impress  the  memory, 
so  that  what  we  have  done  is  usually  easily  remembered 
and  recalled.2  Through  the  retentive  power  inherent  in 

contracting." — Dr.  Kirkes.  "The  skill  which  certain  individuals 
acquire  in  the  mechanical  part  of  music,  as  well  as  the  great  dex- 
terity of  rope-dancers,  tumblers,  and  jugglers,  depend  in  a  great 
measure  upon  their  accurate  perceptions  of  the  contractions  of  the 
muscles." — Dr.  Bostock. 

1  "  No  voluntary  action  can  be  performed  without  the  assistance 
of  a  guiding  sensation.  ...  In  the  majority  of  cases  the  guiding  or 
controlling  sensation  is  derived  from  the  niuscles  themselves"  ;  but 
"if  the  muscular  sense  be  deficient,  one  of  the  special  senses  may 
supply  the  requisite  information". — Dr.  Carpenter.  "  When  the 
muscular  sense  is  lost  while  the  power  of  motion  remains  .  .  .  the 
person  cannot  direct  the  movements  of  the  afflicted  limbs  without 
the  guidance  of  the  eye."— Quairis  Anatomy. 

*  "  There  is  nothing  so  well  remembered  by  us  as  the  results  o| 


THE   SENSES.  159 

muscle,  by  means  of  which  what  is  once  done  comes  by 
repetition  to  be  more  and  more  easily  done,  our  present 
movements  are  moulded  and  guided  by  those  that  went 
before,  and  we  come  to  be  able  by  practice  to  regulate 
with  great  nicety  the  amount  of  energy  requiring  to  be 
put  forth  in  any  particular  case.1  The  importance  of 
this  will  be  seen  if  we  happen  to  miscalculate,  or  are 
deceived  as  to  the  amount  of  effort  necessary  to  be  put 
forth  in  order  to  perform  a  particular  movement,  as  in 
taking  a  false  step,  when  not  only  is  the  movement  ill- 
performed,  but  the  system  receives  a  shock  not  unlike 
that  of  electricity. 

Our  mental  life  is  largely  made  up  of  experiences 
received  through  this  sense.  In  ordinary  cases  we  are 
unconscious  of  the  effort  put  forth  in  the  directing  of 
our  movements,  but  we  are  fully  conscious  of  it  at  first 
in  learning  the  movements,  and  also  when  called  upon 
to  exert  it  under  unusual  or  trying  circumstances,  as 
when  we  attempt  to  stand  or  walk  in  a  difficult  or 
dangerous  place.2  The  probability,  therefore,  is  that 
these  movements  are  always  under  the  direction  of  the 
mind,  though  we  may  not  be  conscious  of  it.  The 
effect  of  exercise  on  this  sense  is  seen  in  the  case  of  the 
blind,  who  by  means  of  it  are  able  to  pursue  a  straight 
path,  which  is  beyond  the  power  of  one  who  is  only 

our  own  actions,"  and  "hence  in  studying  natural  processes  we 
succeed  best  by  making  the  observations  and  experiments  for 
ourselves  ". — Prof.  Bain. 

1  "  When  we  are  about  to  make  a  muscular  effort,  the  amount  of 
force  which  we  put  forth  is  governed  by  the  mental  conception  of 
that  which  will  be  required  as  indicated  by  the  experience  of  former 
sensations." — Dr.  Carpenter. 

a  "  A  large  amount  of  sensation  is  derived  from  the  muscular 
sense,  yet  we  are  not  aware  of  the  nice  adjustments  of  the  muscles 
regulated  by  this  sensibility  when  we  sit  or  walk.  No  sooner  are 
we  placed  in  an  exceptional  position  than  we  become  distinctly 
aware  of  the  effort."— &  H.  Lewes. 


160  MEMOBY. 

blindfolded  for  the  occasion.1  In  this,  as  in  other  cases 
where  we  usually  rely  upon  sight,  the  inferior  sense  is 
deprived  of  its  due  amount  of  exercise. 

By  practice  a  very  high  degree  of  accuracy  in  the 
regulation  of  our  movements  is  attained.2  In  drawing, 
painting,  engraving,  the  power  of  directing  the  different 
movements  and  effecting  the  most  delicate  touches  is 
very  great.  Persons  dealing  in  articles  sold  by  weight 
are  able  to  form  very  precise  estimates  of  the  weight  of 
such  articles  by  balancing  them  in  their  hands.3 

The  pleasures  derived  from  this  sense  are  of  a  highly 
enjoyable  kind.  The  feelings  of  freshness,  vigour, 
activity,  the  consciousness  of  physical  power,  the  sense 
of  being  able  to  encounter  and  overcome  difficulties,  all 
spring  from  this  source.  It  is  particularly  in  early  life, 
when  the  limbs  quiver  with  activity,  and  when  it  re- 
quires no  inconsiderable  effort  to  be  still,  that  these 
feelings  are  most  intense. 

Touch. — The  sense  of  touch  is,  physiologically  consi- 
dered, the  simplest  and  least  complex  of  the  senses, 

1  "  The  blind  man  who  has  been  accustomed  to  rely  exclusively 
upon  his  muscular  sense  has  no  difficulty  in  keeping  to  a  straipht 
path,  and  moves  onward  with  a  confidence  which  is  in  remarkable 
contrast  with  the  gait  of  a  man  who  has  been  deprived  of  sight  for 
the  occasion  only.'^Dr.  Carpenter. 

8  "  By  constant  practice  there  is  acquired  from  its  exercise  a  pecu- 
liar skill  and  aptitude.  It  admits  of  infinite  variety,  as  in  active 
and  passive  motions,  or  in  adaptation  to  various  purposes  with  great 
nicety,  as  in  estimating  weight,  balancing,  throwing  weapons,  playing 
on  various  musical  instruments,  skilful  workmanship,  sense  of  resist- 
ance, &c.,  &c.  Like  the  other  senses,  it  adds  largely  to  our  feeling  of 
pleasure  and  intellectual  enjoyment." — Dr.  J.  H.  Bennett. 

*  "  According  to  the  delicacy  of  the  muscular  tissue,  we  can  by 
shorter  or  longer  practice  acquire  distinct  impressions  from  every 
standard  of  dimension,  and  "can  decide  at  once  whether  a  given 
length  is  four  inches  or  four  and  a  half,  nine  or  ten,  twenty  or 
twenty-one.  ...  In  drawing,  painting,  and  engraving,  and  in  the 
plastic  arts,  the  engrained  discrimination  of  the  most  delicate  differ* 
ences  is  an  indispensable  qualification." — Prof.  Bain. 


THE   SENSES.  161 

being,  in  fact,  only  an  exalted  form  of  common  sensa- 
tion, while  it  is  also  the  most  generally  diffused,  existing 
in  almost  every  part  of  the  body.1  Its  seat  is  the  skin, 
the  entire  surface  of  which  is  eminently  sensitive,  but 
it  is  especially  on  the  palmar  surface  of  the  hands  and 
fingers  that  it  is  most  developed,  and  these  are  there- 
fore regarded  as  the  principal  organs  of  the  sense. 

The  acuteness  of  this  sense  differs  greatly  in  different 
parts  of  the  body,  depending,  doubtless,  mainly  upon 
the  number  of  terminal  nerve  filaments  proceeding  to 
the  part,  and  their  isolation  from  each  other.2  By 
means  of  a  pair  of  compasses  it  was  ascertained  that 
the  two  points  could  be  perceived  as  distinct  when 
\  line  apart  at  the  point  of  the  tongue,  1  line  on  the 
palmar  surface  of  the  third  finger,  and  2  lines  on  the 
red  surface  of  the  lips  and  the  palmar  surface  of  the 
second  finger,  up  to  30  lines,  or  2J  inches,  on  the  skin 
of  the  back  over  the  spine,  and  on  the  middle  of  the 
arm  and  thigh.  Considerable  differences,  however,  are 

1  Touch  "  is  the  simplest  and  most  rudimentary  of  all  the  special 
senses,  and  may  be  considered  as  an  exalted  form  of  common  sensa- 
tion, from  which  it  rises  by  imperceptible  gradations  to  its  state  of 
highest  development  in  some  particular  parts.     It  has  its  seat  in  the 
whole  of  the  skin,  and  in  certain  mucous  membranes,  as  that  of  the 
mouth,  and  is  therefore  the  sense  most  generally  diffused  over  the 
body." — Todd  and  Bowman.     "  We  must  consider  the  skin  as  a  sen- 
sory organ  which  encloses  our  entire  body,  and  is  adapted  to  render 
every  part  of  the  surface  of  our  body  sensible  of  external  impressions, 
and,  indeed,  of  impressions  of  manifold  kinds,  which  arouse  in  us 
peculiar  sensations,  and  are  inseparably  connected  with  mental  pro- 
cesses."— Prof.  J  Bernstein. 

2  "  The  perfection  of  the  sense  of  touch  on  different  parts  of  the 
surface  is  proportioned  to  the  power  which  such  parts  possess  of  dis- 
tinguishing and  isolating  the  sensations  produced   by  two  points 
placed  close  together      This  power  depends,  at  least  in  part,  on  the 
number  of  primitive  nerve  fibres  distributed  to  the  part." — Dr. 
Kirkes.     "  Whenever  two  points  produce  a  double  sensation,  we  may 
imagine  that  one  point  lies  on  the  area  supplied  by  one  distinct 
nerve,  while  the  other  point  lies  on  the  area  of  a  second  nerve,"— 
Prof.  Bain. 


162  MEMORY. 

found  to  exist  among  different  individuals  in  this  respect, 
some  being  able  to  distinguish  the  points  at  much  less 
distances  than  others.  If  the  points,  in  place  of  being 
stationary,  are  made  to  move  over  the  surface,  or,  still 
better,  if  the  surface  is  moved  over  them,  the  limit  will 
be  much  diminished,  probably  to  the  extent  of  half  or 
more.  Hence  the  importance  of  having  this  sense 
most  highly  developed  in  those  parts  which  are  most 
capable  of  motion,  namely,  the  hands.1 

The  objects  of  touch  are  principally  solid  substances, 
and  their  mode  of  action  is  by  simple  pressure,  through 
which  we  estimate  the  hardness,  softness,  roughness, 
smoothness,  &c.,  of  substances  with  which  we  come  in 
contact.2  Prof.  Weber  found  that  the  tips  of  the  fin- 
gers could  distinguish  between  the  weights  of  20  and 
19'2  ounces.  This  is  best  done  by  placing  the  two 
successively  upon  the  same  part  or  finger,  rather  than 
the  two  together  upon  different  parts  or  fingers.  Much, 
too,  depends  upon  the  briefness  of  the  interval  between 
the  two  instances.  "The  difference  between  14,  or 
even  14' 5,  could  be  distinguished  from  15  within  30 
seconds;  4  and  5  could  be  distinguished  within  90 
seconds." — Prof.  Bain.  When  the  action  of  the  mus- 
cles is  introduced,  by  the  hand  being  moved  up  and 
down,  minuter  differences  will  be  distinguished.  Weber 

1  The  hand,  u  from  its  perfect  adaptation  to  the  uses  to  which 
it  is  devoted,  its  power,  its  delicacy,  and  the  infinite  movements 
which  it  can  accomplish,  is  not  surpassed  as  an  example  of  the 
adaptation  of  means  for  the  accomplishment  ot  an  end  by  any  struc- 
ture of  the  body".— Dr.  Dalton. 

2  "  Touch  is  that  peculiar  sensibility  which  gives  the  consciousness 
of  the  resistance  of  external  matter,  and  makes  us  acquainted  with 
the  hardness,  smoothness,  roughness,  size,  and  form  of  bodies.     It 
enables  us  to  distinguish  what  is  external  from  what  belongs  to  us  ; 
and  while  it  informs  us  of  the  geometrical  qualities  of  bodies,  we 
must  refer  to  this  sense  also  our  judgment  of  distance,  of  motion,  of 
number,  and  of  time."— tftr  C.  BelL 


THE   SENSES.  163 

infers  that  the  measure  of  weight  by  mere  touch  is 
more  than  doubled  by  the  play  of  the  muscles.  By 
touch  and  motion  combined  we  receive  notions  of  size, 
shape,  direction,  distance,  and  situation  of  bodies. 
Hence  this  sense  and  the  muscular  are  valuable  as 
auxiliaries  to  sight,  at  first  instructing  and  informing  it 
regarding  these  conditions  of  bodies,  and  afterwards 
serving  to  correct  many  indefinite  or  fallacious  impres- 
sions that  might  be  received  from  that  sense  alone. 
Owing,  however,  to  our  usually  relying  upon  sight  for 
information  on  these  points,  the  muscular  and  tactile 
senses  are  not  sufficiently  exercised,  and  we  do  not 
have  them  in  that  efficiency  that  we  should  have.1 

The  sensations  of  heat  and  cold  are  so  different  from 
those  of  ordinary  touch  as  to  afford  some  ground  for 
the  opinion  that  they  depend  upon  a  different  set  of 
nerves.2  There  does  not,  however,  seem  to  be  sufficient 
evidence  in  support  of  this  view,  and  there  are  several 
very  strong  objections  that  may  be  urged  against  it.8 

1  "  Evidently  at  present  as  to  the  muscular  and  tactile  sensations 
we  have  rough  discrimination  only  ;  we  can  hardly  distinguish  their 
shades  of  difference  for  want  of  being  compelled  to  do  so.  ...  With 
some  blind  persons  the  perfection  of  the  sense  of  touch  surpasses  all 
imagination.  ...  It  is  enough  to  see  blind  men  read  with  their 
fingers  books  printed  in  relief  almost  as  rapidly  as  we  read  books 
printed  in  black  and  white,  to  comprehend  all  the  power  of  discri- 
mination which  our  touch  might  have,  but  has  not  acquired." — H. 
Taine. 

2  Sir  W.  Hamilton  thinks  it  probable  that  the  sensation  of  heat 
depends  on  a  peculiar  set  of  fibres  for  two  reasons :  "  1.  Because  cer- 
tain sentient  parts  of  the  body  are  insensible  to  this  feeling  ;  and,  2. 
Because  I  have  met  with  cases  recorded  in  which,  while  sensibility 
in  general  was  abolished,  the  sensibility  to  heat  .remained  apparently 
undiminished". 

3  "  There  is  no  reason  for  supposing  that  any  other  nerves  than 
those  of  touch  are  needed  to  arouse  a  sensation  of  warmth  or  of 
coolness." — Prof.  Bain.    "  There  is  no  adequate  ground  for  the  sup- 
position that  a  set  of  nerve  fibres  is  provided  for  their  transmission 
distinct  from  those  which  minister  to  common  sensation.* — Dr.  Cor- 
Center. 


164  MEMOBY. 

We  believe  that  most  of  the  phenomena  connected 
with  this  class  of  sensations  may  be  explained  by  sup- 
posing that  they  are  mainly  owing  to  the  action  of  the 
minute  capillaries,  which  permeate  all  parts  of  the  skin, 
upon  the  nerves.  While  touch  may  be  said  to  result 
from  direct  pressure  upon  the  nerves,  heat  or  cold  may 
act  more  directly  upon  the  bloodvessels,  causing  them 
to  expand  or  contract,  and  so  affecting  the  nerves. 
Hence  the  sensation  is  more  perceptible  when  a  large 
surface  is  exposed  to  a  change  of  temperature.  A 
change  which  will  be  imperceptible  to  a  single  finger 
will  readily  be  perceived  if  the  whole  hand  be  submitted 
to  it.1 

While  regarded  physiologically  as  the  simplest  of  the 
senses,  intellectually,  touch  is  entitled  to  occupy  a 
much  higher  place,  whether  we  regard  the  number  and 
variety  of  the  ideas  which  it  communicates  to  the  mind, 
the  pleasures  or  pains  which  may  spring  from  it,  or  the 
important  part  which  the  mind  plays  in  its  operations.2 
In  none  of  the  other  senses  does  man  stand  superior  to 
all  other  animals,  save  touch,  and  Anaxagoras  was  wont 
to  say  that  animals  would  have  been  men  had  they  had 
hands* 

1  "  If  the  forefinger  of  one  hand  be  immersed  in  water  ai  104°, 
and  the  whole  of  the  other  hand  be  plunged  in  water  at  102°,  the 
cooler  water  will  be  thought  the  warmer  ;  whence  the  well-known 
fact  that  water  in  which  a  finger  can.  be  held  will  scald  the  whole 
hand." — Dr.  Carpenter. 

2  « Why  touch,  the  simplest  and  earliest  sense,  should  in  its 
higher  forms  be  more  than  any  other  sense  associated  with  the 
advance  of  intelligence,"  is  explained  by  "the  fact  that  tactual 
impressions  are  those  into  which  all  other  impressions  have  to  be 
translated  before  their  meanings  can  be  known".     Hence  "a  highly 
elaborated  tactual  apparatus -comes  to  be  the  uniform  accompaniment 
of   superior    intelligence.   .   .   .   All   handicrafts,   and   after    them 
the  higher  processes  of  production,  have  grown  out  of  that  manual 
dexterity  in  which  the  elaboration  of  the  motor  faculty  terminates." 
— H.  Spencer. 


THE  SENSES.  165 

The  distinctness  and  intensity  of  a  sensation  of  touch 
depends  in  great  measure  upon  the  degree  of  attention 
that  is  given  to  it.  If  the  attention  is  strongly  directed 
to  any  tactile  sensation,  the  vividness  of  the  impression 
is  much  increased ;  and  by  allowing  the  mind  to  con- 
stantly dwell  on  any  form  of  physical  suffering,  however 
slight,  it  may  be  aggravated  to  almost  any  extent,  and 
real  diseases  induced  in  parts  through  fancied  ailments.1 
On  the  other  hand,  when  the  mind  is  thoroughly 
engrossed  with  any  one  object,  it  may  become  in  a 
given  measure  insensible  to  all  external  impressions. 
Hence  we  find  men  possessed  by  one  absorbing  idea 
rising  above  all  corporeal  suffering,  and  enduring  the 
most  cruel  tortures  unflinchingly.2  In  no  sense  are  sub- 
jective sensations  more  frequent  than  in  that  of  touch—- 
the mind  having  the  power  in  a  remarkable  degree  of 
exciting  tactile  sensations  in  parts,  without  any  external 
cause,  but  simply  by  the  power  of  imagination.8 

1 "  The  mind  has  a  remarkable  power  of  exciting  sensation*  in  the 
nerves  of  common  sensibility.  .  .  .  The  idea  of  pain  gives  rise 
to  the  actual  sensation  of  pain  in  a  part  predisposed  to  it.  A  painful 
sensation  becomes  more  intolerable  the  more  the  attention  is  directed 
to  it." — Dr.  Kirkes.  "The  constant  direction  of  the  attention  to  its 
supposed  seat  (i.e.,  an  imaginary  disease)  has  a  tendency  to  alter  the 
organic  action  of  the  heart,  and  thus  to  induce  real  disease  in  the 
stead  of  that  which  was  at  first  imaginary." — Dr.  Carpenter. 

2  "The  martyr  borne  above  sensuous  impressions  is  not  only  able 
to  endure  tortures  when  they  come,  but  in  great  part  to  subdue  and 
quench  them.  .  .  .  The  pinching  and  cutting  of  the  fle^h  only  add 
energy  to  the  death  song  of  the  American  Indian — even  the  slave 
under  the  lash  is  sustained  by  the  indignant  sense  of  his  wrongs." — 
£  S.  Wyld. 

1  "  It  is  remarkable  that  not  merely  are  subjective  sensations,  like 
All  others,  rendered  more  intense  by  the  direction  of  the  attention 
to  them,  but  they  may  be  actually  called  into  existence  by  the 
fixation  of  the  attention  on  certain  parts  of  the  body.  ...  If 
the  attention  be  steadily  directed  to  almost  any  part  of  the  surface 
of  the  body,  some  feeling  of  itching,  creeping,  or  tickling  will  goon 
be  experienced." — Dr.  Carpenter. 
13 


166  MEMOBY. 

The  mental  ideas  or  impressions  of  this  sense  are 
very  vivid  and  durable,  and  readily  recalled,  so  that 
the  different  degrees  of  hardness,  softness,  weight, 
temperature,  or  other  qualities  of  objects,  can  be 
determined  by  practice  with  a  great  measure  of 
accuracy.1 

That  this  sense  is  capable  of  being  brought  to  a  high 
degree  of  perfection  is  evident  from  the  case  of  those 
who  are  under  the  necessity  of  using  it  frequently. 
People  destitute  of  sight,  for  instance,  and  obliged  to 
rely  constantly  upon  this  sense,  come  to  acquire  an 
acuteness  and  power  of  discrimination  in  it  that  seems 
almost  incredible.2  Cases  are  on  record  of  such  persons 
being  able,  by  touch  alone,  to  distinguish  the  colours 
of  surfaces  in  other  aspects  alike,  to  distinguish  between 
genuine  medals  and  imitations,  and  to  recognise  indi- 
viduals, after  long  periods  of  absence,  by  the  mere 
contact  of  their  hands. 

Taste. — Of  the  remaining  senses,  taste  is  the  one  that 
is  most  nearly  allied  to  that  of  touch.  The  tongue, 
which  is  the  principal  organ  of  taste,  has  also  the  sense 

1  "  The  after  sensations  left  by  impressions  on  nerves  of  common 
sensibility  or  touch  are  very  vivid  and  durable.     As  long  as  the 
condition  into  which  the  stimulus  has  thrown  the  organ  endures,  the 
sensation  also  remains,  though  the  exciting  cause  should  have  long 
ceased  to  act." — Dr.  Kirkes.     "  Tactile  sensations,  whereby  surfaces 
are  discriminated,  have  a  great  degree  of  persistence  in  the  recollec- 
tion, something  intermediate  between  tastes,  and  smells,  and  sights. 
.  .  .    The  cloth-dealer  sees  whether  a  given  specimen  corresponds 
with  another  piece  that  passed  through  his  hands  a  week  ago,  or 
with  a  permanent  standard  impressed  upon  his  linger  sensibility."— 
Prof.  Bain. 

2  "  The  improvement  in  the  sense  of  touch  in  those  persons  whose 
dependence  upon  it  is  increased  by  the  loss  of  other  senses  is  well 
known."— Dr,  Carpenter.     "  A  familiar  illustration  occurs  in  the  case 
of  the  blind,  who,  by  constant  practice,  can  acquire  the  power  of 
reading  raised  letters,  the  forms  of  which  are  almost,  if  not  quite, 
undistinguishable  by  the  sense  of  touch  to  an  ordinary  person."— 
Dr.  Kirke*. 


THE   SENSES.  167 

of  touch  in  the  highest  perfection.1  In  taste  as  in 
touch,  the  object  requires  to  be  brought  into  direct 
contact  with  the  organ  of  sense  before  it  can  be  per- 
ceived, which  is  not  the  case  in  smell,  hearing,  or 
sight.  In  addition  to  this,  there  is  no  special  nerve  of 
taste  as  there  is  of  smell,  hearing,  and  sight,  for  the 
nerves  concerned  in  taste  are  also  nerves  of  common 
sensibility.  On  the  other  hand,  the  sense  of  taste 
differs  from  that  of  touch  in  being  confined  to  a  par- 
ticular part,  and  not  generally  diffused  over  the  body, 
and  in  being  acted  upon  chemically  and  not  mechani- 
cally— the  objects  of  taste  requiring  to  be  either  liquid 
or  soluble  in  the  mouth  in  order  to  act  upon  the 
nerves.2  If  even  the  most  sapid  substance  be  applied 
to  the  tongue  in  a  dry  state,  and  the  tongue  itself  be  also 
dry,  no  taste  will  be  felt.  The  effect  is  increased  by 
moving  the  substance  over  the  surface  of  the  tongue — 
the  sensation  being  more  intense  the  larger  the  surface 
affected.3  A  short  time  must  elapse  after  contact  with 
the  tongue  before  the  taste  of  a  sapid  body  is  felt,  and 
this  varies  according  to  the  nature  of  the  sub- 

1  "  The  experiments  of  Stich  and  Kllaatsch  show  that  the  sense  of 
taste  exists  over  the  whole  surface  of  the  posterior  third  of  the  dorsum 
(or  upper  surface)  of  the  tongue,  on  the  under  surface  of  the  tip,  and 
in  a  band  or  line  ahout  one  quarter  of  an  inch  broad  running  along 
its  edge.     The  sense  is  also  well  defined  in  the  posterior  parts  of  the 
hard  palate,  and  in  that  portion  of  the  soft  palate  which  is  near  the 
bone.    It  is  further  present  in  the  anterior  pillars  of  the  fauces.    The 
middle  and  anterior  part  of  the  dorsum,  the  gums,  posterior  pillars 
of  the  fauces,  and  the  inner  surface  of  the  lips,  possess  no  sense  of 
taste."— Dr.  /.  H.  Bennett. 

2  "  Every  substance  which  possesses  a  distinct  taste  is  more  or  less 
boluble  in  the  fluids  of  the  mouth,  while  substances  which  are  per- 
fectly insoluble  do  not  make  their  presence  known  in  any  other 
way  than  through  the  sense  of  touch.": — Dr.  Carpenter. 

8  "  Thus  the  wine-taster  takes  a  small  quantity  of  the  liquor  into 
his  mouth,  carries  it  rapidly  over  every  part  of  its  lining  membrane! 
and  then  ejects  it." — Dr.  Carpenter. 


163  MEMORY. 

stance.1  After  being  exposed  to  two  or  three  allied  tastes 
alternately  in  succession,  the  sense  becomes  blunted, 
and  loses  its  power  of  discriminating  between  them. 

In  general,  the  impressions  of  this  sense  have  a 
longer  persistence  than  those  of  smell,  hearing,  or 
sight,  and  everyone  knows  how  long  the  taste  of  some 
powerful  substance  remains  in  the  mouth,  and  obscures 
for  a  time  that  of  all  else.2  As  there  is  an  open  com- 
munication between  the  back  part  of  the  mouth  and 
the  nose,  the  sense  of  smell  mingles  largely  with  that 
of  taste,  as  will  readily  be  perceived  by  chewing  some 
aromatic  substance  with  the  nostrils  closed,  when  the 
taste  will  be  very  much  diminished,  if  not  actually 
lost.3  The  sense  of  touch,  too,  frequently  mingles 
with  taste;  and  many  of  the  impressions  which  are 
commonly  referred  to  taste  are  simply  tactile,  as  for 
instance  such  as  are  derived  from  acrid,  irritant,  astrin- 
gent substances.4  Such  is  the  power  of  this  sense,  that 
one  part  of  sulphuric  acid  in  10,000  of  water,  one  part 
of  sulphate  of  quinine  in  33,000  of  water,  and  one  part 
of  strychnine  in  1,000,000,  can  be  detected  when  care- 
fully compared  with  pure  water. 

Professor  Bain  makes  a  threefold  division  of  the 
sensations  of  taste — namely  (1)  relishes  and  disgusts ; 

1  "Saline  solutions  are  most  quickly  perceived,  sweet  solutions 
less    quickly,  then    acid,    and    lastly    bitter    substances. — Dr.    J. 

JL/j  Til 

Marshall. 

2  «  yery  digtinct  sensations  of  taste  are  frequently  left  after  the 
substances  which  excited  them  have  ceased  to  act  on  the  nerve ; 
and  such  sensations  often  endure  for  a  long  time,  and  modify  the 
taste  of  other  substances  applied  to  the  tongue  afterwards." — Dr. 
Kirkes. 

"  Some  bodies,  as  cinnamon,  have  no  taste,  but  only  a  flavour." 
—Pro/.  Bain. 

4  "  The  pungent  sensations  caused  by  mustard,  pepper,  &c.,  are 
owing  to  the  excitation  of  touch,  and  should  be  separated  from  those 
of  taste."— Dr.  J.  H.  Bennett. 


THE   SENSES.  169 

(2)  tastes  proper ;  and  (3)  tastes  involving  also  touch. 
Eelishes  are  such  as  are  in  direct  sympathy  with 
the  stomach,  as  the  different  kinds  of  food  called 
savoury.  The  opposite  of  relishes  is  disgusts.  Of 
tastes  proper,  the  divisions  are  sweet,  as  sugar;  and 
bitter,  as  quinine.  The  third  class  of  tastes  includes 
the  saline,  as  salt;  the  alkaline,  as  soda;  the  acid 
or  sour,  as  vinegar;  the  astringent,  as  alum;  the 
fiery,  as  mustard;  and  the  acrid,  a  combination  of 
the  fiery  and  bitter. 

The  organ  of  this  sense,  being  situated  at  the  entrance 
to  the  alimentary  canal,  is  designed  to  guide  us  in  the 
choice  of  our  food,  so  that  we  may  select  what  will  be 
beneficial  and  avoid  what  may  be  hurtful.1  There  can 
be  no  doubt  that  if  this  sense  were  properly  trained 
and  directed,  in  place  of  being,  as  it  generally  is,  led 
astray  or  perverted  by  excessive  indulgence,  it  would 
be  a  much  more  reliable  guide  than  it  is  at  present.2 
"In  the  majority  of  instances  of  actual  illness/'  says 
Sir  H.  Holland,  "provided  the  real  feelings  of  the 
patient  can  be  safely  ascertained,  his  desires  as  to  food 
and  drink  may  be  safely  complied  with."  3  The  enjoy- 
ment of  life  also  depends  largely  upon  the  pleasures 

1  "  There  is  an  obvious  continuity  of  structure  in  the  tongue  and 
alimentary  canal,  a  common  character  of  surface  as  regards  mucous 
membrane,  glands,  and  papillae.  .  .  .  The  tongue  is  in  fact  the 
stomach  begun." — Prof.  Bain.  "  The  sense  of  taste  assists  us  in  the 
preference  of  food,  and  superadds  the  agreeable  enjoyment  of  relish 
to  the  acts  of  eating  and  drinking." — Dr.  J.  Marshall. 

2 "We  eat  what  we  should  not  eat;  drink  what  we  should  not 
drink ;  eat  too  much  of  what  we  may  eat ;  and  drink  too  much  of 
what  we  may  drink.  And  the  result  is  that  we  ruin  our  health, 
enfeeble  our  bodies,  dull  our  intellects,  brutalise  our  feelings,  and 
harden  our  hearts." — Prof.  G.  Wilson. 

s  "  In  the  case  of  invalids,  the  suggestions  of  the  sick  man's  palate 
are  often  safer  than  the  dicta  of  the  medical  adviser/' — Dr.  J. 
Marshall 


170  MEMORY. 

derived  through  this  sense.1  A  patient  who  was  suffer- 
ing under  its  deprivation  said:  "Everything  I  eat 
seems  to  me  to  be  earth". 

Like  the  other  senses,  that  of  taste  is  capable  of 
being  greatly  improved  by  cultivation.  The  wine- 
taster,  tea-taster,  cook,  or  chemist  acquires  an  acute- 
ness  of  taste  that  is  quite  beyond  the  power  of  ordinary 
individuals.2 

There  appear  to  exist  certain  relations  among  tastes 
such  as  we  find  among  colours  and  sounds,  some 
modifying,  intensifying,  or  harmonising  those  with 
which  they  are  associated.  Thus  the  taste  of  cheese 
improves  the  flavour  of  wine,  while  that  of  sweet 
substances  destroys  it.  By  the  addition  of  sweet 
substances,  sour  or  bitter  tastes  may  be  made  pleasant, 
but  no  such  change  can  thereby  be  effected  on  saline 
tastes.  The  whole  art  of  cooking  depends  on  the 
proper  combining  and  harmonising  of  tastes.3 

Smell. — Closely  allied  to  the  sense  of  taste  is  that  of 
smell.  They  are  both  situated  at  the  entrance  to  the 

1  "  As  it  is  the  sense  having  the  custodiership  of  the  animal  wants, 
so  in  the  exercise  of  this  charge  there  is  no  sense  more  largely  con- 
tributory to  our  every-day  enjoyments,  animal  spirits,  health,  and 
comfort."— R.  S.  Wyld. 

2  "  The  experienced  wine-taster  can  distinguish  differences  of  age, 
purity,  place  of  growth,  &c.,  between  liquors  that  to  ordinary  judg- 
ments are  alike  ;  and  the  epicure  can  give  an  exact  determination 
of  the  spices  that  are  combined  in  a  particular  sauce,  or  the  manner 
in  which  the  animal  on  whose  flesh  he  is  feeding  was  killed." — Dr. 
Carpenter. 

3  "  There  appears  to  exist  the  same  relation  "between  tastes  as 
between  colours,  of  which  those  that  are  opposed  or  complementary 
render  each  other  more  vivid,  though  no  general  principles  govern- 
ing this  relation  have  been  discovered  in  the  case  of  tastes.     In  the 
art  of  cooking,  however,  attention  has  at  all  times  been  paid  to  the 
consonance  or  harmony  of  flavours  in  their  combination  or  order  of 
succession ;  just  as  in  painting  and  music  the  fundamental  principles 
of  harmony  have  been  employed  empirically,  while  the  theoretical 
lawi  were  unknown." — Dr.  Mutter. 


THE   SENSES.  171 

alimentary  canal,  and  are  primarily  designed  to  inform 
us  of  the  nature  and  qualities  of  our  food.1  Smell 
being  possessed  of  a  keener  and  more  subtle  perception 
than  taste,  and  dealing  with  qualities  of  a  different 
kind,  enables  us  to  distinguish  substances  that  to 
taste  alone  appear  identical.2  Further,  as  we  have 
said,  much  of  the  discriminative  power  that  is  com- 
monly ascribed  to  taste  depends  in  reality  upon  smell. 
Being  seated  at  the  principal  entrance  to  the  lungs,  it 
likewise  serves  to  test  the  purity  of  the  air  we  breathe. 
It  also  affords  a  refined,  delicate,  and  not  over  obtrusive 
pleasure,  and  gives  an  additional  beauty  and  charm  to 
many  objects  of  nature. 

The  objects  of  smell  require  to  be  in  an  aeriform  or 
gaseous  state,  as  those  of  taste  require  to  be  in  a  state 
of  solution.  They  are  conveyed  into  the  interior  of 
the  nose  in  the  ordinary  act  of  breathing,  and  the 
mucous  membrane  being  in  a  moist  state  lays  hold  of 
and  acts  upon  them.  The  action  of  this  sense,  like 
that  of  taste,  is  generally  believed  to  be  a  chemical 

1 "  The  great  practical  object  of  the  sense  oi  smell  is  doubtless  in 
man,  as  in  other  animals,  to  assist  in  the  choice  of  food."—  R.  S. 
Wyld.  "  It  is  a  law  in  reference  to  ourselves — to  which,  so  far  as  I 
know,  there  is  no  exception — that  there  is  not  any  substance  having 
a  powerful  smell  of  which  it  is  safe  to  take  much  internally." — Prof. 
G.  Wilson.  "Nearly  all  substances  with  a  bad  smell  have  an  injuri- 
ous effect  upon  the  body." — Prof.  Bernstein. 

2  "  How  passing  wonderful'  are  the  various  scents  .  .  .  that 
fill  the  air,  yet  when  they  fall  upon  the  fine  membrane  of  the  nose 
.  .  .  they  are  inhaled,  distinguished,  and  called  by  name  !  They 
gail  in  numerous  squadrons,  close  to  our  eyes,  and  close  by  our  ears, 
yet  are  so  amazingly  attenuated  that  they  elude  the  search  of  both  ! 
Nevertheless,  so  judiciously  are  the  olfactory  nets  laid,  and  so  art- 
fully their  meshes  sized,  that  they  catch  these  vanishing  fugi- 
tives. They  catch  the  roaming  perfumes  which  fly  off  from  the 
opening  honeysuckle,  and  take  in  tne  stationed  sweets  which  hover 
round  the  expanded  rose.  They  imbibe  all  the  balmy  fragrance  of 
spring,  all  the  aromatic  exhalations  of  autumn,  and  enable  us  to 
banquet  even  on  the  invisible  dainties  of  nature," — /.  Hervey. 


172  MEMORY. 

one.  Most  bodies  throw  off  from  their  substance 
minute  particles  of  matter,  or  it  may  be  that  the  air 
acting  upon  the  exposed  surfaces  of  bodies  dissolves 
minute  portions  of  their  substance,  and  these,  held  in 
suspension  in  the  atmosphere,  constitute  their  smell. 
The  extreme  minuteness  of  these  particles  is  evident 
from  the  fact  that  a  grain  of  musk  will  impregnate  a 
large  quantity  of  air  for  years  without  any  sensible 
diminution  of  its  weight.1 

In  order  to  smell  it  is  necessary  that  the  odorous 
particles  enter  the  nostrils  in  a  current  of  air,,  for  one 
may  be  in  a  room  impregnated  with  odour,  and  be  in- 
sensible to  its  presence,  if  he  do  not  breathe  it  through 
the  nostrils — breathing  only  through  the  mouth.2  On 
the  other  hand,  in  order  to  perceive  a  smell  most  dis- 
tinctly or  powerfully,  recourse  is  had  to  sniffing,  by 
which  the  air  containing  the  odorous  particles  is  drawn 
up  forcibly  against  the  upper  part  of  the  mucous  mem- 
brane lining  the  nose,  where  the  sense  of  smell  is  most 
acute.  In  order  to  smell  the  mucous  membrane  re- 
quires to  be  in  a  moist  state.  When  this  is  dry  the 
sense  is  impaired  or  lost.  In  like  manner,  odours  are 
not  nearly  so  readily  perceived  in  a  dry  as  in  a  moist 
atmosphere.  On  the  other  hand,  an  excessively  moist 
state  of  the  mucous  membrane,  as  when  suffering  from 
a  cold,  impairs  or  destroys  smell.  Some  time  elapses 

1 "  The  minuteness  of  the  particles  of  bodies  acting  on  the  sense 
of  smell  has  often  been  dwelt  upon  as  a  striking  example  of  the 
divisibility  of  matter.  Sulphuretted  hydrogen  in  the  atmosphere  in 
the  proportion  of  one  to  a  million  is  distinctly  perceptible.  Am^ 
monia  is  perceptible  in  the  proportion  of  1  to  33,000." — Prof.  Bain. 

g"  Odorous  substances  in  general  are  such  as  can  be  readily  acted 
on  by  oxygen  ; "  and  "  unless  a  stream  of  air  containing  oxygen  pass 
into  the  cavities  of  the  nostrils  along  with  the  odoriferous  effluvia 
no  smell  is  produced". — Prof.  Bain.  "  By  breathing  through  the 
mouth  we  may  avoid  being  affected  by  odours  even  of  the  strongest 
and  most  disagreeable  kind," — Dr.  Carpenter. 


THE    SENSES.  173 

after  the  particles  reach  the  mucous  membrane  before 
they  are  perceived,  as  in  taste,  and  the  effect  often  per- 
sists for  a  long  time  after  the  cause  has  been  removed. 
Under  the  continued  action  of  the  same  stimulus  the 
sensation  rapidly  diminishes  in  intensity,  and  may  soon 
cease  to  be  perceived.  Man  is  inferior  to  many  animals 
in  the  acuteness  of  this  sense  for  particular  odours,  but 
he  excels  them  all  in  the  variety  of  objects  to  which  it 
extends. 

Though  our  nomenclature  of  odours  is  exceedingly 
restricted,  "there  are,"  says  Prof.  Wilson,  "probably 
as  many  odours  as  there  are  colours  or  sounds".1 
Various  classifications  of  odours  have  been  attempted. 
Linnaeus  divides  them  into  seven  different  classes :  (1) 
aromatic,  as  the  carnation;  (2)  fragrant,  as  the  lily;  (3) 
ambrosiac,  as  musk;  (4)  alliaceous,  as  garlic;  (5)  foetid,  as 
ragwort ;  (6)  virulent,  as  the  Indian  pink ;  and  (7)  nau- 
seous, as  the  gourd.  Professor  Bain  has  three  principal 
classes :  (1)  odours  in  sympathy  with  the  lungs,  (2) 
those  of  smell  proper,  and  (3)  those  involving  excita- 
tion of  the  nerves  of  touch.  In  the  first  class  he  has 
fresh  odours,  or  such  as  accelerate  the  action  of  the 
lungs,  as  eau-de-cologne,  and  close  or  suffocating  odours, 
which  depress  the  action  of  the  lungs.  He  has  also 
here  nauseous  or  disgusting  odours,  which  manifest  a 
sympathy  with  the  stomach.  In  the  second  class  are 
sweet  or  fragrant  odours,  as  of  the  rose;  and  their 
opposites  or  malodours,  as  of  assafoetida.  In  the  third 
class  are  pungent  odours;  as  of  mustard;  ethereal  odours, 

1  "  ,  .  .  Let  those  who  doubt  this  visit  a  scientific  chemist's  labo- 
ratory and  examine  his  specimens  one  by  one,  and  they  will  easily 
satisfy  themselves  that  a  fac-simile  of  the  largest  church  organ  might 
readily  be  constructed  in  which  each  organ  pipe  sounding  a  different 
note  should  be  represented  by  a  phial  exhaling  when  opened  a  dif- 
ferent odour." — Pro/.  G.  Wilson. 


174  MEMOEY. 

as  of  alcohol;  appetising  odours  and  flavours,  as  of 

cinnamon. 

The  sense  of  smell,  like  the  other  senses,  may  be 
brought  to  a  very  high  degree  of  perfection  by  cultiva- 
tion.1 In  blind  persons  this  sense  is  sometimes  so 
acute  that  they  are  able  to  distinguish  individuals  by 
it.  In  the  well-known  case  of  James  Mitchell,  who 
was  blind,  deaf,  and  dumb  from  his  birth,  it  was  his 
principal  means  of  distinguishing  persons,  and  enabled 
him  at  once  to  perceive  the  entrance  of  a  stranger. 
Among  savage  tribes,  too,  who  depend  much  on  this 
sense,  it  is  very  acute. 

Besides  its  importance  as  an  instrument  in  the 
discrimination  of  bodies,  and  in  extending  our  know- 
ledge of  the  world  around  us,  as  a  valuable  source  of 
pleasure  and  of  mental  enjoyment,  it  demands  much 
more  care  and  attention  than  it  commonly  receives. 
Mental  associations  frequently  cluster  round  sensations 
of  smell  more  strongly  than  round  any  other  sensations 
we  receive  from  without.2  The  suggestive  power  of 
odours  is  to  many  persons  greatly  superior  even  to  that 
of  sight.  Among  the  civilised  nations  of  antiquity,  as 
among  the  Oriental  and  Southern  peoples  of  the  present 

1  "The  wine-merchant,  the  distiller  of  perfumes,  the  manufacturer 
of  drugs,  the  grower  of  scented  plants,  the  tobacco-dealer,  and  many 
others,  have,  by  long  training,  educated  themselves  to  distinguish 
differences  of  odour  which  escape  an  uneducated  and  unpractised 
nostril,  however  acute  by  natural  endowment." — Pro/.  G.  Wilson* 
a  "  Why  should,  at  times,  a  passing  scent, 
Just  sniffed  a  moment  on  the  breeze^ 
Its  sensuous  power  so  swiftly  spent, 
Come  laden  with  more  memories 
Than  the  low  hum  of  honey  bees, 
Or  sound  of  old  familiar  strains, 
Or  rustling  of  the  autumn  grains, 

Or  voices  from  the  whispering  trees, 
Or  the  running  brooks  or  the  pattering  rains  ?  n 

— Olrig  Grange. 


THE   SENSES.  175 

day,  the  pleasures  of  this  sense  were  much  more  culti- 
vated, and  the  use  of  perfumes  much  more  common,  than 
with  us ;  while  among  the  ancient  Hebrews  the  use  of 
incense  entered  largely  into  the  worship  of  God.1 

Hearing. — In  hearing  and  in  sight  we  have  to  deal 
with  higher  classes  of  sensations,  and  more  complex 
organs,  than  those  already  mentioned.  In  touch,  taste, 
and  smell,  the  objects  or  their  particles  require  to  be 
brought  into  direct  contact  with  the  terminal  nerve 
apparatus  in  order  to  be  perceived,  whereas  in  hearing 
and  in  sight  the  peripheral  end  filaments  of  the  nerves 
terminate  in  enclosed  sacs,  containing  a  fluid  substance 
by  which  they  are  protected  and  kept  in  a  constantly 
moist  state,  and  through  which  they  are  acted  upon. 
This  contrivance  is  doubtless  rendered  necessary  by 
the  delicate  and  susceptible  nature  of  their  structures, 
for  were  they  subjected  to  the  drying  and  other  in- 
fluences of  the  atmosphere,  or  kept  in  a  moist  state 
only  by  such  means  as  those  adopted  for  taste  or 
smell,  they  could  not  retain  their  delicacy.  If  by  any 
accident  this  fluid  escapes  from  the  ear,  entire  and 
incurable  deafness  is  the  result,  in  like  manner  as 
blindness  results  from  loss  of  the  humours  of  the  eye. 
Sonorous  waves  give  rise  to  no  sound  when  directly 
acting  upon  the  end  filaments  of  the  auditory  nerve.2 

1  "  To  an  ancient  Hebrew,  in  the  days  when  symbols  spoke  to 
men's  imaginations  as  they  do  not  now  to  ours,  it  seemed  most 
natural  to  regard  incense  as  prayer,  and  to  feel,  when  the  perfumed 
smoke  was  ascending  from  the  altar,  as  if  it  were  the  voice  of  the 
High  Priest,  in  silent  eloquence,  making  a  new  confession  of  the 
sins  of  the  people,  beseeching  forgiveness  for  them,  and  offering  their 
thanksgivings  to  God." — -Prof.  G.  Wilson. 

2  "  Waves  of  sound  falling  on  the  auditory  nerve  itself  produce  no 
effect  whatever  ;  it  is  only  when,  by  the  medium  of  the  eridolymph, 
they  are  brought  to  bear  on  the  delicate*  and  peculiar  epithelium 
cells  which  constitute  the  peripheral  terminations  of  the  nerve,  that 
sensations  of  sound  arise." — Dr.  M.  Foster. 


176  MEMOET. 

Sound,  the  object  of  hearing,  is  a  special  sensation 
produced  by  the  vibrations  of  some  sonorous  body— solid, 
liquid,  or  gaseous — conveyed  to  the  ear,  and  affecting 
the  auditory  nerve.1  All  sonorous  bodies  are  bodies 
in  a  state  of  vibration;  and  when  such  vibrations  are 
communicated  to  the  ear  with  sufficient  rapidity  and 
force,  a  sensation  of  sound  is  the  result.  The  sono- 
rous body,  which  vibrates  in  air,  throws  the  air  which 
surrounds  it  into  similar  vibrations;  and  these,  extending 
in  waves,  enter  the  ear,  and  acting  upon  its  delicate  ap- 
paratus, impress  the  end-filaments  of  the  auditory  nerve.2 

The  ear  is  specially  constructed  for  receiving  impres- 
sions from  the  surrounding  air,  and  unless  conveyed  by 
the  air  or  some  other  medium,  no  sound  can  reach  the 
ear.8  A  bell  rung  in  an  exhausted  receiver  gives  forth 
no  sound.  In  hearing,  then,  we  do  not  take  cognisance 
of  the  sonorous  body  directly,  but  only  of  the  effect 
produced  by  it  upon  an  intervening  medium — the  air — 
which  acts  upon  the  organ  of  hearing. 

The  atmosphere  whose  vibrations  impart  sound  to 
the  ear  is  regarded  as  composed  of  an  infinite  number 
of  atoms,  acted  upon  and  governed  by  two  nicely- 
balanced  forces — mutual  repulsion  and  attraction — so 

1 "  The  sensation  of  sound  is  excited  by  the  concussion  of  the 
acoustic  nerve,  occasioned  in  most  cases  by  the  vibration  of  the 
external  air." — H.  Taine. 

2  "  Every  body  which  vibrates  in  the  air  throws  the  air  which 
surrounds  it  into  similar  vibrations.  .  .  .  The  vibrations  consist  of 
condensations  and  expansions  of  the  air,  which  follow  one  another 
like  circles  of  waves  upon  the  surface  of  water." — Prof.  Bernstein. 

8  "  Sound  can  pass  through  solid  bodies  also  without  the  interven- 
tion of  air,  and  reach  the  labyrinth  in  this  manner." — Prof.  Bernstein. 
"  There  are  instances,  for  example,  of  persons  who  are  totally  deaf  to 
sounds  produced  by  excitements  of  the  air,  but  who  can  hear  the 
sound  of  a  watch  or  a  bell  when  held  by  the  teeth,  the  sound  being 
then  conveyed  by  the  bony  and  other  portions  of  the  head  to  the 
auditory  nerves." — Prof.  Airy. 


THE   SENSES.  177 

as  to  admit  of  the  greatest  freedom  of  motion  among 
each,  other.  In  vibrations  of  the  atmosphere,  then,  we 
have  a  state  of  alternate  condensation  and  rarefaction, 
and  sound  is  produced  when  these  succeed  each  other 
with  a  certain  rapidity  and  intensity.1  The  lowest  and 
highest  number  of  vibrations  in  a  given  time  that  are 
audible  to  the  human  ear  are  variously  given  by  dif- 
ferent authorities  ;  and  in  this  respect  great  differences 
exist  among  individuals — some  perceiving  sounds  so 
deep  as  to  be  inaudible  to  other  ears ;  others,  sounds 
of  so  high  a  pitch  as  to  be  generally  unheard.  Accord- 
ing to  Helmholtz  and  others,  vibrations  under  16  or 
over  38,000  in  a  second  are  quite  inaudible,  though  for 
most  persons  the  range  is  much  less,  not  exceeding 
16,000.2  All  sound,  whatever  its  pitch  or  intensity, 
travels  at  the  same  rate,  being  in  dry  air  at  32°  Fahr. 
1090  feet  per  second,  but  it  varies  with  the  elasticity 
and  density  of  the  air.3 

Professor  Bain  distinguishes  sounds  considered  as 
sensations  into  three  classes :  "  The  first  comprises  the 

1  "The  atmosphere  may  be  described  as  consisting  of  an  infinity 
of  atoms  capable  of  moving  freely  amongst  each  other,  and  which 
are  held  separate  by  virtue  of  a  law  of  mutual  repulsion,  each  atom 
repelling  its  neighbours,  and  tending  to  fly  farther  asunder.  .  .  . 
Sound  is  produced  by  a  succession  of  quick,  minute  condensations 
and  rarefactions  in  the  air,  and  these  must  follow  each  other  with  a 
certain  velocity  in  order  to  excite  that  sensation." — E.  S.  Wyld. 

2  "  The  gravest  sound  audible  to  the  human  ear  is  (according  to 
Helmholtz)   16  vibrations  a  second ;   the  highest  audible  sound, 
38,000  vibrations  a  second,  being  a  compass  of  11  octaves." — Prof. 
Bain. 

8  "  The  velocity  of  sound  in  air  depends  on  the  elasticity  of  the 
air  in  relation  to  its  density.  The  greater  the  elasticity,  the  swifter 
is  the  propagation  ;  the  greater  the  density,  the  slower  is  the  propa- 
gation. .  .  .  The  velocity  of  sound  in  water  is  more  than  four  times 
its  velocity  in  air.  The  velocity  of  sound  in  iron  is  seventeen  timei 
its  velocity  in  air.  The  velocity  of  sound  along  the  fibre  of  pine* 
wood  is  ten  times  its  velocity  in  air." — Prof.  Tyndall. 


178  MEMORY. 

general  effects  of  sound  as  determined  by  quality, 
intensity,  and  volume  or  quantity,  to  which  all  ears 
are  sensitive.  The  second  class  includes  musical 
sounds,  for  which  a  susceptibility  to  pitch  is  requisite. 
Lastly,  there  is  the  sensibility  to  the  articulateness, 
distance,  and  direction  of  sounds,  which  are  the  more 
intellectual  properties." 

The  first  and  principal  difference  between  sounds 
experienced  by  the  ear  is  that  between  noises  and 
musical  tones,  every  variety  of  which  depends  on  the 
rapidity,  form,  size,  and  order  of  succession  of  the 
vibrations.  In  musical  tones,  the  vibrations  are 
periodic,  or  succeed  each  other  at  regular  intervals  ; 
in  noises,  they  follow  each  other  irregularly.1  Musical 
tones  begin  to  be  perceived  at  about  30  vibrations  in  a 
second,  but  a  determinate  musical  pitch  is  not  percep- 
tible till  about  40  vibrations  are  reached.2 

Musical  tones  are  distinguishable  from  each  other  (1) 
by  their  intensity,  force,  or  loudness ;  (2)  by  their  pitch 
or  relative  height;  and  (3)  by  their  quality  or  timbre. 
The  intensity,  force,  or  loudness  of  a  tone  depends 
upon  the  extent  or  amplitude  of  the  vibrations, — the 
greater  the  extent  of  the  vibrations  the  louder  the 
sound.  Pitch  depends  on  the  number  of  the  vibrations 
that  strike  the  ear  in  a  given  time, — the  greater  the 
number  of  vibrations  the  higher  the  pitch.  As  the 
number  of  vibrations  increase,  the  time  occupied 
by  each  diminishes,  and  the  length  of  the  wave  is 
shortened.  Hence,  the  shorter  the  vibrations  or  waves 

1 "  The  sensation  of  a  musical  tone  is  due  to  a  rapid  periodic 
motion  of  the  sonorous  body  ;  the  sensation  of  a  noise,  to  non- 
periodic  motions." — H.  Helmholty. 

2  "  The  musical  tones  which  can  be  used  with  advantage,  and 
bave  clearly  distinguishable  pitch,  have  between  40  and  4000  vibra- 
tions  in  a  second,  extendng  o  ver  seven  octaves." — H.  HelmhoUz. 


THE   SENSES.  179 

of  sound  the  higher  the  tone,  and  the  longer  the  waves 
the  deeper  the  tone.  The  quality,  colour,  or  timbre  of 
a  tone  is  that  peculiarity  attaching  to  each,  which 
renders  it  easy  to  distinguish  notes  of  the  same  in- 
tensity and  pitch  proceeding  from  different  instruments. 
Thus  we  can  readily  distinguish  the  same  note  as 
coming  from  a  piano,  a  violin,  a  flute,  &c.  This  has 
been  proved  by  Helmholtz  to  arise  from  the  presence 
of  a  certain  number  of  overtones,  which  are  produced 
with  every  tone  which  is  sounded.1  These  overtones 
are  usually  called  the  harmonics  of  the  given  funda- 
mental tone.  They  are  present  to  a  greater  or  less 
extent  in  the  sounds  of  all  instruments  used  in  music, 
and  it  is  their  presence  and  strength  that  give  to  each 
kind  of  instrument  its  peculiar  tone.  Thus  each 
musical  tone  is  a  compound  made  up  of  a  series  of 
different  tones — the  first  being  the  fundamental,  or 
prime  partial  tone  of  the  compound,  and  the  rest  its 
harmonic  upper  partial  tones. 

Great  differences  exist  among  individuals  with  regard 
to  the  acuteness  of  this  sense,  and  some  possess  it  in 
greater  perfection  in  certain  directions  than  in  others. 
One  whose  hearing  is  good  for  sound  in  general  may 
yet  have  but  little  ear  for  musical  tones ;  and,  on  the 
other  hand,  one  with  a  good  ear  for  music  may  yet  be 
deficient  as  regards  hearing  in  general.2  Some  ears, 

1  "  The  difference  between  sounds,  otherwise  the  same,  proceeding 
from  different  materials,  instruments,  or  voices  .  .  .  are  now  ex- 
plained by  the  presence  of  auxiliary  upper  tones  in  all  instruments, 
which  tones  vary  with  the  material  and  the  instrument" — Prof. 
Bain, 

2  "  In  different  individuals  the  sense  of  hearing  is  more  perfect 
for  sounds  of  different  pitch ;"  and  "  one  whose  hearing  is  good  as  far 
as  regards  the  sensibility  to  feeble  sounds,  is  sometimes  deficient  in 
the  power  of  recognising  the  musical  relation  of  sounds,  and  in  the 
sense  of  harmony  and  discord ;   while  another  individual,  whose 


180  MEMOBY. 

again,  are  more  acute  for  articulate  sounds,  or  sounds 
of  a  particular  kind,  than  others.  There  also  appear 
to  be  considerable  differences  among  individuals  as  to 
the  time  it  takes  for  an  impression  to  reach  conscious- 
ness or  to  be  apprehended  by  the  intelligence.  There 
are  persons  who  have  no  difficulty  in  hearing  sounds, 
but  yet  fail  in  readily  interpreting  or  understanding 
them.  This  is  frequently  the  case  with  persons  in  old 
age,  or  suffering  from  mental  debility,  and  is  to  be 
attributed  to  a  condition  of  mind  rather  than  to  any 
defect  in  the  organ  of  hearing.1  What  is  commonly 
termed  deafness  is  not  unfrequently  to  be  attributed  to 
this  cause — the  sounds  being  heard,  but  not  being 
interpreted  or  recognised  through  mental  defect  or 
failure  of  memory.  The  power  of  attention  is  strongly 
marked  in  regard  to  this  sense,  and  sounds  may  be 
distinctly  heard  when  the  attention  is  directed  towards 
them  that  in  ordinary  circumstances  would  be  imper- 
ceptible ;  and  people  often  fail  to  hear  what  is  said  to 
them  because  they  are  not  paying  attention.2 

The  power  of  perceiving  the  direction  of  sounds  is 
not  a  faculty  of  the  sense  of  hearing,  but  is  an  act  of 
the  mind  judging  from  experiences  previously  acquired.3 

hearing  is  in  other  respects  imperfect,  has  these  endowments". — Dr. 
Kirkes.  "  It  is  even  possible  for  a  person  whose  hearing  is  very 
defective  from  disease  to  have  a  better  ear  for  musical  sounds  than, 
has  another  person  who  is  not  at  all  deaf." — W.  Harvey. 

1  "  Persons  on  whom  old  age  or  debility  brings  deafness  frequently 
describe  themselves  as  having  no  difficulty  in  hearing  sounds,  but  aa 
being  unable  to  disentangle  and  identify  words  when  they  are  indis- 
tinctly and  rapidly  uttered."     This  defect  "is  most  marked  early  in 
the  day,  and  is  diminished  by  whatever  invigorates  the  circulation  ". 
— H.  Spencer. 

2  "  That  one-half  of  the  deafness  that  exists  is  the  result  of  inat- 
tention cannot  be  doubted."— fP.  Harvey. 

8  In  hearing  u  we  must  distinguish  two  different  points— the 
audible  sensation  as  it  is  developed  without  any  intellectual  inter- 


THE    SENSES.  181 

From  the  modifications  which  the  sensation  of  sound 
undergoes  according  to  the  direction  from  which  it 
reaches  us,  the  mind  infers  the  position  of  the  sounding 
body.  In  forming  this  judgment  we  are  doubtless 
greatly  aided  by  the  possession  of  two  ears.  In  like 
manner  the  distance  of  the  source  of  a  sound  is  not 
recognised  by  the  sense  itself,  but  is  inferred  from  its 
intensity. 

The  ear  ranks  as  the  most  intellectual  of  our  senses 
after  the  eye,  while  as  a  power  of  moving  our  emotional 
nature,  and  calling  forth  our  activities,  it  is  superior 
even  to  that.1  To  the  majority  of  mankind  music  is  a 
greater  source  of  enjoyment  than  a  scene  or  a  picture.2 
The  ear  is  the  organ  by  which  man  listens  to  the  voice 
of  his  fellow-man,  and  the  wail  of  anguish,  the  cry  of 
pity,  the  word  of  exhortation,  find  an  entrance  here  to 
his  inmost  soul,  moving  him,  it  may  be,  to  deeds  of  the 
greatest  self-denial  or  of  the  utmost. heroism.3 

ference,  and  the  conception  which  we  form  in  consequence  of  that 
sensation". — Dr.  Kirkes. 

1  "  All  the  delights  of  music,  all  the  charms  of  society,  all  the 
power  of  language,  all  the  expressions  of  love,  pity,  anger,  remorse, 
]oy,  and  fear,  which  we  encounter  in  our  way  through  life — all  are 
out  the  developments  of  the  one  elementary  perception  of  sound  as 
conveyed  to  us  through  waves  of  the  atmosphere  in  combination 
with  the  susceptibility  of  the  appropriate  organ." — J.  D.  MorelL 
What  is  received  by  the  ear  makes  a  deeper  impression  on  the 
mind  than  anything  received  through  the  organs  of  sight.     It  is  a 
known  thing  that  nothing  so  much  awakens  the  Switzer's  longing 
for  home  as  the  peculiar  series  of  modulations,  without  any  words, 
which  compose  the  so-called  Ranz  des  vaches,  which  is  only  to  be 
heard  in  that  country,  bat  which  has  neither  music  nor  melody  in 
it" — W.  von  Humboldt. 

2  "  A  love  of  music  is  much  more  frequent  than  a  love  of  painting 
or  sculpture  ;  and  you  will  reach  the  hearts  and  touch  the  feelings 
of  the  majority  of  mankind  more  quickly  by  singing  them  a  song 
than  by  showing  them  a  picture." — Prof.  G.  Wilson. 

8  In  the  hands  of  genius  the  sense  of  hearing  "  is  made  to  move 
00  gently  with  the  pastoral  ditty  ;  to  excite  our  pity  or  desire  ;  to  stir 
14 


ic 


182  MEMOEY. 

Almost  everything  in  nature  may  be  said  to  have  its 
voice  by  which  it  speaks  to  man,  who  is  thus,  as  it 
were,  brought  into  fellowship  and  sympathy  with  it.1 
Without  the  hearing  ear  all  nature  is  silent,  and 
stripped  in  a  great  measure  of  its  charms.2  To  be 
without  this  sense,  to  be  shut  out  from  listening  to  the 
voices  of  our  fellow-men,  to  be  cut  off  from  all  the 
sounds  of  nature,  is  a  heavier  privation  than  even  the 
loss  of  sight.8 

The  ear  is  the  sense  that  is  most  closely  associated 
with  the  voice  and  speech.4  It  guides  and  directs  the 
action  of  the  vocal  organs,  in  much  the  same  way  that 
the  action  of  the  muscles  is  guided  by  the  muscular 
sense.6  Language  is  also  primarily  and  most  directly 

up  a  national,  patriotic,  or  martial  spirit ;  to  celebrate  a  victory  ;  to 
subdue  us  with  devotional  melodies ;  or  to  overwhelm  us  with  those 
marvellous  creations  of  the  human  soul  and  mind,  the  grand  and 
majestic  combinations  of  the  oratorio". — Dr.  J.  Marshall.  "The 
firmness  of  a  word  and  a  gesture  has  often  staid  a  flying  army,  and 
the  fate  of  nations  has  turned  upon  the  tones  of  determination 
Bounded  by  a  single  patriot." — R.  S.  Wyld. 

1  "  It  is  the  sense  through  which  all  nature  speaks  to  us  in  her 
manifold  voices,  excites  within  us  the  higher  emotions,  and  feeds  the 
sense  of  harmony,  which  is  a  mental  quality." — Dr.  J.  Marshall. 

2 "Apart  from  sound,  the  outward  world  has  a  dreamlike  and  un- 
real look — we  only  half  believe  in  it,  we  miss  at  each  moment  what 
it  contains." — H.  R.  Haweis. 

8  "  It  is  a  sorer  affliction  to  be  cut  off  from  listening  to  the  tongues 
of  our  fellow-men,  than  it  is  to  be  blinded  to  the  sights  on  which 
they  gaze." — Prof.  G.   Wilson.     "  Deafness  tries  the  temper  more, 
isolates  more,  unfits  for  social  converse,  cuts  off  from  the  world  of 
breathing  emotional  activity  tenfold  more  than  blindness." — H.  R. 
Haweis. 

4  "  Sound  is  the  leading  element  in  language,  both  spoken  and 
written.  We  hear  the  words  even  when  we  see  them,  but  we  do  not 
ice  them  when  we  hear  them." — (j.  H.  Lewes. 

9  "  It  appears  that  the  vocal  organs  are  usually  guided  in  their 
action  by  the  sensations  received   through  the  ears,  in  the  same 
manner  as  other   muscles  are  guided  by  the  sensations  received 
through  themselves."     In  vocalisation  "the  delicate  gradations  in 


THE   SENSES.  183 

addressed  to  the  ear,  and  it  is  by  the  ear  that  it  is  most 
readily  learnt.1  In  learning  a  language,  nothing  is  of 
more  importance  than  an  ear  well  trained  to  nicely 
discriminate  and  treasure  up  different  kinds  of  articulate 
sounds.  The  ear  is  the  natural  companion  of  the 
tongue,  not  the  eye,  and  a  language  learned  by  the  ear 
comes  more  readily  and  naturally  to  be  spoken  than 
when  learned  by  the  eye.  It  is  by  the  ideas  of  the 
sounds  as  heard,  rather  than  of  the  words  as  seen,  that 
a  language  is  learnt.  Further,  the  mind  is  more  im- 
pressed by  hearing  than  by  seeing,  and  the  language 
which  is  taken  in  by  the  ear  is  more  readily  and  deeply 
implanted  in  the  memory  than  that  which  is  acquired 
through  the  eye ;  in  like  manner  as  what  is  said  to  us 
usually  impresses  us  more  deeply  than  what  we  merely 
read.2  Hence  we  hold  that  in  teaching  the  ear  should 
be  much  more  frequently  called  into  exercise  than  it  is 


the  action  of  each  individual  muscle,  and  the  harmonious  combina- 
tion of  the  whole,  are  effected  under  the  guidance  of  the  ear  without 
(save  in  exceptional  cases)  the  smallest  knowledge  on  our  own 
parts  of  the  nature  of  the  mechanism  we  are  putting  in  action  ". — Dr. 
Carpenter. 

1  "  In  the  first  phases  of  the  development  of  the  young  child,  it  is 
indeed  acoustic  impressions  that  first  awaken  his  mind  and  lead  him 
to  reproduce  the  sounds  that  strike  his  ears.  ...  It  is  by  means  of 
this  series  of  acts  that  human  speech,  the  natural  daughter  of  auditory 
excitations,  becomes  developed  in  us,  expresses  itself  outwardly,  and 
manifests  through  precise  and  appropriate  sounds  the  emotions  of 
the  sentient  personality  which  is  in  action." — J.  Luys.  "  Language 
belongs,  in  the  first  instance,  to  the  ear,  and  is  afterwards  by  a 
transfer  of  associations  conveyed  to  the  eye.  .  .  .  When  language  is 
mentally  employed  as  a  vehicle  or  medium  of  cogitation  ...  it  is  the 
sound  rather  than  the  written  sign  that  is  thought  of." — Isaac 
Taylor.  "  It  would  seem  pretty  obvious  that,  so  far  as  the  infant 
thinks  by  means  of  language,  it  does  so  by  means  of  the  remembered 
sounds,  these  are  its  linguistic  symbols  of  thought." — Dr.  Bastian. 

8  "  The  mind  is  more  concentrated  in  hearing  than  in  seeing,  and 
the  ear  is  less  apt  to  be  distracted  than  the  eye  by  the  obtrusion  of 
surrounding  objects." — Dr.  B. 


184  MEMORY. 

at  present,  and  that  pupils  should  not  only  learn  their 
lessons  by  reading  them,  but  also  from  hearing  them 
read,  and  from  instruction  received  viva  voce.1 

It  is  of  the  utmost  importance  that  this  sense  be 
fully  educated  and  trained  in  order  that  we  may  receive 
all  the  advantages  from  it  that  it  is  capable  of  affording, 
as  well  as  all  the  pleasure  and  enjoyment  that  it  can  so 
richly  bestow.2  The  ear  is  more  susceptible  of  educa- 
tion, and  may  be  more  readily  trained  than  perhaps 
any  of  the  other  senses.8  Of  the  degree  of  perfection 
to  which  it  may  be  brought  by  education,  we  have 
evidence  in  the  case  of  those  persons  who  have  to 
exercise  it  frequently,  or  who  are  greatly  dependent 
upon  it,  as  the  blind.  An  orchestral  conductor  can 
detect  the  slightest  departure  from  time  or  tune  in 

1  w  Instruction  by  the  living  voice  has  this  advantage  over  books, 
that  as  more  natural  it  is  more  impressive.     Hearing  rouses  the 
attention  and  keeps  it  alive  far  more  effectually  than  reading." — Sir 
W.  Hamilton.     "  The  truth  of  these  remarks  is  confirmed  by  the 
fact  of  few  of  the  sayings  or  songs  learned  by  the  ear  only  and  in  the 
nursery  being  ever  forgotten." — Dr.  B.  Rush. 

2  "  Is  it  not  a  thing  to  be-  deeply  lamented  that  the  sensitive  ears 
with  which  almost  everyone  of  us  has  been  gifted  by  God  are  so 
little  educated  ?  ...  As  for  training  them  to  that  exquisite  sense  of 
melody  or  harmony  of  which  they  are  susceptible,  how  few  do  it !  ... 
Let  everyone  so  train  and  educate  and  fuJly  develop  the  faculty  of 
hearing  that  is  in  those  ears  of  his,  that  he  may  listen  with  full 
delight  and  appreciation  to  the  song  of  birds  and  the  roar  of  the  sea, 
the  wailing  of  the  winds  and  the  roll  of  the  thunder  ;  and  may  be 
able  to  cheer  his  soul  and  calm  his  heart  by  hearkening  to  the  music 
of  his  fellow-men,  and  in  turn  rejoice  their  hearts  by  making  music 
for  them."— Prof.  G.  Wilson. 

8  The  ear  "  is  still  more  susceptible  of  education  than  the  eye,  and 
can  be  educated  more  quickly  ". — Prof.  G.  Wilson.  "  The  quickness 
of  perception  with  regard  to  all  sounds,  those  especially  which  are 
faint  or  distant,  is  much  improved  by  exercise  and  culture,  and  on 
the  other  hand  deteriorated  by  inattention  and  neglect." — W.  Harvey. 
"  By  cultivation  hearing  becomes,  like  all  the  senses,  very  acute — 
as  in  the  Indian,  who  listens  on  the  ground  for  the  distant  footfall  of 
his  enemy  or  his  prey." — Dr.  J.  Marshall. 


THE   SENSES.  185 

fche  sound  of  one  out  of  a  number  of  instruments,  and 
indicate  without  hesitation  the  faulty  performer ;  and  a 
blind  man  is  able  to  thread  his  way  safely  through  a 
crowded  thoroughfare  by  the  acuteness  of  his  ear 
alone.1 

Sight. — The  sense  of  sight  is  the  highest  and  most 
important  of  all  our  senses.2  It  deals  with  the  greatest 
number  of  objects,  gives  us  the  most  varied  informa- 
tion respecting  them,  and  thus  furnishes  the  mind 
with  the  greatest  number  of  its  ideas  concerning  the 
material  universe.  While  most  of  the  other  senses 
reveal  only  one  quality  or  property  of  an  object,  as  its 
taste,  smell,  or  sound,  sight  makes  known  various  pro- 
perties, as  colour,  form,  size,  roughness,  smoothness, 
and  the  like,  as  well  as  place,  distance,  direction,  &c. 
Touch  is  the  only  one  of  the  senses  that,  in  this  respect, 
bears  some  resemblance  to  sight,  and  hence  sight  is 
sometimes  viewed  as  extended  or  distant  touch.8 
Touch,  however,  requires  to  be  brought  into  direct 
contact  with  its  objects  before  it  can  feel  them,  while 
sight  can  take  cognizance  of  objects  a  great  distance 

1  "  The  extraordinary  perfection  and  acuteness  of  hearing  often 
attained  by  the  blind  prove  that  the  faculty  of  hearing,  like  all  the 
other  physical  powers  of  the  human  frame,  is  capable  of  high 
development  .  .  .  under  diligent  cultivation." — W.Harvey.     "They 
can  even  tell  when  they  are  passing  a  stationary  object  (such  as  a 
lamp-post),  provided  it  be  as  high  as  the  ear,  or  nearly  so,  by  the 
reverberation  of  the  sound  of  their  own  footsteps,  and  can  discrimi- 
nate between  a  lamp-post  and  a  man  standing  still  in  the  position  of 
one  by  the  same  means." — Dr.  W.  B.  Carpenter. 

2  "  Of  all  our  members,  the  eye  has  always  been  held  the  choicest 
gift  of  nature — the  most  marvellous  product  of  her  plastic  force.51 — 
H.  Helmholtz.     "  Our  sense  of  sight  is  the  most  perfect  and  delight- 
ful of  all  our  senses/1— Prof.  G.  Wilson. 

3  "  Our  sight  may  be  considered  as  a  more  delicate  and  diffusive 
kind  of  touch  that  spreads  itself  over  an  infinite  multitude  of  bodies, 
comprehends  the  largest  figures,  and  brings  into  our  reach  some  of 
the  most  remote  parts  of  the  universe." — Prof.  G.  Wilson. 


186  MEMORY. 

off.  In  this  respect,  too,  sight  is  superior  to  any  of  the 
other  senses,  which  require  to  be  either  in  immediate 
contact  with,  or  within  a  limited  distance  of,  their 
objects,  in  order  to  perceive  them. 

Sight  is,  at  first,  largely  dependent  upon  the  other 
senses  for  its  information.  It  is  by  means  of  touch 
that  it  acquires  its  fiist  notions  of  the  form,  size,  dis- 
tance, direction,  &c.,  of  bodies,  but  after  a  time  it  comes 
to  furnish  us  with  this  information  without  reference 
to  touch.  Thus  children  manifest  a  great  desire  to 
handle  and  carry  to  the  mouth  whatever  they  see. 
In  like  manner,  the  senses  of  hearing,  taste,  and  smell 
first  inform  the  eye  regarding  such  of  the  properties  of 
objects  as  they  take  cognizance  of,  and  then  the  eye 
comes  to  associate  these  properties  with  the  sight  of 
the  object  without  their  aid.  We  acquire  our  first 
knowledge  of  language  by  the  ear,  but  after  we  have 
learnt  to  read  we  come  to  associate  the  meanings  of 
the  different  words  with  their  visible  forms,  and  not 
with  their  sounds.  Hence,  when  from  the  sight  of  an 
object  we  gather  all  the  information  we  require  re- 
specting it,  we  do  not  think  of  calling  in  the  aid  of  the 
other  senses,  so  that  they  do  not  usually  receive  that 
amount  of  exercise  and  training  that  should  fall  to 
them.  It  is  only  in  those  cases  where  sight  is  wanting 
that  we  find  the  other  senses  in  that  state  of  efficiency 
in  which  they  should  be. 

This  sense  is  specially  fitted  to  guide  and  direct  our 
physical  activities.  By  means  of  it  we  are  able  with 
accuracy  to  determine  the  position,  distance,  size,  form, 
and  other  properties  of  the  objects  around  us,  so  that 
we  can  readily  and  without  difficulty  move  among 
them,  act  upon  them,  touch  and  handle  them.  Thus 
we  can  at  once  lay  our  hand  upon  any  object  within 


THE   SENSES.  187 

reach,  make  onr  way  in  safety  amid  obstacles  that 
impede  our  progress,  strike  a  ball,  thread  a  needle, 
drive  a  nail,  and  perform  a  multitude  of  other  opera- 
tions, every  one  of  which  depends  upon  the  information 
afforded  us  by  the  eyes.1  Besides  this,  it  reveals  to  us 
the  manifold  beauties  of  nature,  with  all  their  wealth  of 
form  and  colour,  of  sunshine  and  shade,  of  action  and 
repose,  and,  stretching  far  into  space,  takes  account  of 
those  distant  worlds  that  sparkle  in  the  heavens.2 
Without  this  sense  our  knowledge  of  the  external  world 
would  be  meagre  and  imperfect,  and  our  enjoyment  of 
nature  very  much  diminished.  It  continues  longer  in 
action,  and  suffers  less  from  fatigue  than  any  of  the 
other  senses,  and  its  pleasures  have  usually  a  higher 
degree  of  persistence,  and  are  more  easily  recoverable 
than  those  of  any  other  sense.8 

The  sole  object  of  sight  is  light,  with  its  various 
modifications  of  shade  and  colour.    Light  was  formerly 

1  We  owe  to  the  eye  "the  security  and  exactness  with  which  we 
can  judge  by  sight  of  the  position,  distance,  and  size  of  the  objects 
which  surround  us.  ...  Whenever  we  stretch  forth  the  hand  to  lay 
hold  of  something,  or  advance  the  foot  to  step  upon  some  object,  we 
must  first  form  an  accurate  optical  image  of  the  position  of  the  object 
to  be  touched,  its  form,  distance.  &c.,  or  we  shall  tail." — H.  Helmholtz. 

2  "It  is  by  the  eye  alone  that  we  know  the  countless  shining 
worlds  that  till  immeasurable  space ;  the  distant  landscapes  of  our 
own  earth,  with  all  the  varieties  of  sunlight  that  reveal  them  ;  the 
wealth  of  form  and  colour  among  flowers  ;  the  strong  and  happy  life 
that  moves  in  animals." — H.  Helmholtz.     "Were  all  the  interesting 
diversities  of  colour  and  form  to  disappear,  how  unsightly,  dull,  ami 
wearisome  would  be  the  aspect  of  the  world  !  .  .  .  The  ever-varying 
brilliancy  and  grandeur  of  the  landscape,  and  the  magnificence  ut 
the  sky,  sun,  moon,  and  stars,  enter  more  extensively  into  the  enjoy 
ment  of  mankind  than  we  perhaps  ever  think  or  can  possibly  appre 
hend  without  frequent  and  extensive  investigation."—  Dr.  Dwiyht. 

3  Sight  "fills  the  mind  with  the  largest  variety  of  ideas,  converses 
with  its  objects  at  the  greatest  distance,  and  continues  the  longest  in 
action  without  being  tired  or  satiated  with  its  proper  enjoyments" 
—Pro/.  <?.  Wilson. 


188  MEMORY. 

supposed  to  consist  of  minute  particles  of  matter  given 
off  in  all  directions  from  luminous  bodies,  and  travelling 
with  immense  rapidity;1  but  the  generally  received 
opinion  now  is  that  it  is  occasioned  by  the  undulations 
of  an  extremely  attenuated  and  subtle  fluid  or  ether, 
which  pervades  all  space  and  penetrates  all  substances, 
occupying  the  interstices  between  their  atoms,  and 
vibrating  freely,  particularly  in  such  substances  as  are 
transparent.  While  at  rest  it  is  inappreciable  by  our 
senses,  but  when  acted  upon  by  luminous  bodies  it  is 
thrown  into  a  succession  of  waves  which,  entering  the 
eye,  produce  our  sensations  of  light  and  colour.2  Thus 
light  resembles  sound  in  the  mode  of  its  action,  but 
while  the  latter  travels  at  the  rate  of  only  about  1090 
feet  in  a  second,  the  former  speeds  at  the  amazing 
rapidity  of  about  186,000  miles  in  the  same  space  of 
time.8 


1  Newton  4<  adopted  a  corpuscular  theory :  he  imagined  light  to 
consist  of  excessively  minute  particles  of  matter  projected  from 
luminous  bodies,  with  the  immense  velocity  of  nearly  200,000  miles 
in  a  second".— JR.  S.  Wyld.  . 

8  "  Of  late  certain  difficulties  in  the  explanation  of  the  recently 
discovered  properties  of  light,  especially  its  polarisation,  have  tended 
to  revive  the  doctrine  maintained  by  Descartes,  Huygens,  and  Euler, 
viz.,  that  all  the  phenomena  of  light  depend  on  the  undulations  of  a 
highly  attenuated  fluid  or  ether  universally  diffused  throughout 
space,  which,  while  at  rest,  is  inappreciable  by  our  senses,  but  when 
acted  on  by  luminous  bodies  is  thrown  into  a  succession  of  waves. 
Luminous  bodies  are  thus  supposed  to  act  on  the  universally  diffused 
fluid  somewhat  in  the  same  manner  that  sonorous  bodies  do  on  air 
in  the  production  of  sound."— Encyclopaedia  Britannica,  Art.  "  Light ". 
"Physics  teach  us  that  light  is  transmitted  by  the  ether,  a  substance 
of  extraordinary  tenuity,  which  extends  throughout  the  universe, 
penetrates  all  substances,  exists  also  in  empty  space,  and  that  it  is 
produced  by  vibrations  of  the  ether  of  extraordinary  rapidity."— 
Prof.  Bernstein. 

*  "  Light  is  without  doubt  the  most  wonderful  natural  agent  we 
are  acquainted  with  ;  pervading,  as  it  appears  to  do,  infinite  space; 
•treaming  from  age  to  age  from  the  remotest  orbs  the  telescope  can 


THE   SENSES.  189 

Just  as  in  sound,  differences  of  pitch  in  musical  tones 
are  due  to  the  rate  of  the  undulations  of  air,  so  differ- 
ences in  colour  are  owing  to  the  rate  of  the  undulations 
of  the  ether.  It  has  been  ascertained  that  the  number 
of  undulations  necessary  to  produce  the  sensation  of 
red  is  no  less  than  482  billions  in  a  second,  while  the 
number  of  those  necessary  to  produce  the  sensation  of 
violet,  at  the  other  end  of  the  spectrum,  amounts  to 
707  billions  a  second,  the  other  prismatic  hues  having 
each  its  appropriate  number  between  these  two.1 
Since-  the  different  kinds  of  light  travel  with  equal 
velocity,  it  follows  that  the  length  of  each  wave  is 
conversely  proportionate  to  its  duration.  Thus  the 
wave  length  of  the  extreme  red  ray  is  0*0,000,266  of 
an  inch,  and  that  of  the  extreme  violet  only  0*0,000,167. 
The  number  of  undulations  in  an  inch  is,  for  the  ex- 
reach,  and  with  a  velocity  which  baffles  our  comprehension." — 
R.  S.  Wyld. 

1  "Modern  optical  discoveries  teach  us  that  every  point  of  a  medium 
through  which  a  ray  of  light  passes  is  affected  with  a  succession  of 
periodical  movements  recurring  regularly  at  intervals  not  less  than 
four  hundred  millions  of  millions  of  times  in  a  second  ;  that  it  is  by 
such  movements  communicated  to  the  nerves  of  our  eyes  that  we 
see  ;  nay,  more,  that  it  is  the  difference  in  the  frequency  of  their 
recurrence  which  affects  us  with  the  sense  of  the  diversity  of  colour; 
that,  for  instance,  in  acquiring  the  sensation  of  redness  our  eyes  are 
affected  four  hundred  and  eighty-two  millions  of  millions  of  times  ; 
of  yellowness,  five  hundred  and  forty-two  millions  of  millions  of 
times  ;  and  of  violet,  seven  hundred  and  seven  millions  of  millions 
of  times  per  second/ — Sir  John  Herschel.  "  A  man  counting  as  hard 
as  he  can  repeat  numbers  one  after  another,  and  never  counting 
more  than  a  hundred,  BO  that  he  shall  have  no  long  words  to  repeat, 
may  perhaps  count  ten  thousand,  or  a  hundred  a  hundred  times  over, 
in  an  hour.  At  this  rate,  counting  night  and  day,  and  allowing  no 
time  for  rest  or  refreshment,  he  would  count  one  million  in  four 
days  and  four  hours,  or  say  four  days  only.  To  count  a  million  a 
million  times  over  he  would  require  four  million  days,  or,  roughly, 
ten  thousand  years  ;  and  for  five  hundred  millions  of  millions  he 
must  have  the  utterly  unrealisable  period  of  live  million  years."^ 
S.  Sutler. 


190  MEMORY. 

treme  red,  87,640,  and  the  extreme  violet,  59,750,  tha 
others  being  intermediate.1 

Besides  the  undulations  that  produce  light  or  colour, 
there  are  others  which,  from  being  either  too  slow  or 
too  rapid,  do  not  give  rise  to  luminous  sensations. 
Below  the  red  the  undulations  do  not  produce  light 
but  heat,  and  above  the  violet  they  have  only  a  chemi- 
cal action.  The  former  are  therefore  known  as  the 
dark  heat  rays,  the  latter  as  the  dark  chemical  rays,  of 
the  spectrum.  The  illuminating  or  light-giving  power 
is  greatest  in  the  yellow  portion  of  the  spectrum,  and 
diminishes  rapidly  towards  the  red  on  the  one  side, 
and  the  violet  on  the  other. 

The  colour  of  an  object  is  caused  by  the  rejection  or 
reflection  of  certain  of  the  coloured  rays,  the  others 
being  absorbed.  Thus  an  object  appears  red  when  all 
the  coloured  rays  are  absorbed  with  the  exception  of 
the  red,  which  are  reflected.  Where  all  the  rays  are 
absorbed  the  object  appears  black,  where  all  are  re- 
flected white.  Thus  the  colour  of  bodies  depends  on 
the  rays  they  reject  or  radiate,  not  on  those  they 
absorb. 

Those  colours  which,  when  combined,  constitute 
white  are  always  harmonious  when  associated  together. 
Thus  blue,  yellow,  and  red  ;  orange,  green,  and  violet ; 
red  and  green ;  yellow  and  violet ;  blue  and  orange,  are 
harmonious.  The  unharmonious  colours,  on  the  other 
hand,  are  such  as  contain  only  a  part  of  the  consti- 
tuents of  white,  as  red  and  yellow,  red  and  blue,  yellow 

1  "  An  increase  of  speed  and  diminution  of  length  in  the  waves 
are  sufficient  to  determine  the  variations  which  our  sensation  of 
colour  undergoes  in  passing  from  red  to  violet.  .  .  .  Helmholtz  dis- 
tinguishes the  following  successive  colours — red,  orange,  golden 
yellow,  pure  yellow,  greenish  yellow,  pure  green,  bluish  green,  blue 
of  water,  cyanic  blue,  indigo,  violet»  and  ultra- violet." — H.  Taine, 


THE   SENSES.  191 

anfl  blue.  The  agreeableness  of  the  sensations  pro- 
duced by  harmonious  colours  is  doubtless  owing  to  the 
wave  action  of  their  rays  being  in  accordance  with  the 
natural  action  of  the  nerve  force,  and  tending  to  restore 
the  disturbed  equilibrium  of  the  retina  and  optic  nerve. 

Colour,  therefore,  does  not  exist  as  such  in  the  object 
itself,  which  simply  reflects  or  transmits  a  certain  num- 
ber of  billions  of  undulations  a  second,  and  these  are 
perceived  as  colour  only  when  they  fall  upon  the  retina 
of  a  sentient  being.  Light  and  colour  have  no  existence 
apart  from  the  seeing  eye,  except  as  mechanical  im- 
pulses or  undulations.1  The  sensation  of  light  may  be 
produced  by  any  irritation  of  the  optic  nerve,  as  by  a 
blow  or  pressure  upon  the  eyeball,  a  shock  of  electri- 
city, &c. 

The  sensations  of  sight  are  excited  by  the  action  of 
light  upon  the  retina  of  the  eye,  where  the  ultimate 
fibres  of  the  optic  nerve  terminate.  This  action  con- 
sists in  forming  upon  the  retina  an  image  or  repre- 
sentation of  what  is  before  it,  and  this  is  effected  by 
means  of  the  rays  of  light  which  all  objects,  being 
either  luminous  in  themselves  or  reflecting  the  light 
transmitted  to  them  from  other  bodies,  send  forth. 
In  the  eye  we  have  an  optical  instrument  of  great 
fineness  and  delicacy,  composed  of  various  parts, 
beautifully  adjusted  for  receiving  impressions  of  ex- 
ternal objects,  and  imprinting  them  on  the  retina, 


1  Light  "is  the  product  of  undulations  of  the  ether  and  of  retinal 
sensibility.  Both  factors  are  indispensable  to  the  product ;  but  either 
may  potentially  exist  independently  of  the  other." — JR.  S.  Wyld. 
"  Colour  does  not  exist  as  such  in  the  object  itself,  which  has  merely 
the  power  of  reflecting  or  transmitting  a  certain  number  of  millions 
of  undulations  in  a  second  ;  and  these  only  produce  that  affection  of 
our  consciousness  which  we  call  colour,  when  they  fall  upon  the 
retina  of  the  living  percipient." — Dr.  Carpenter. 


192  MEMORY. 

whence  they  are  transmitted  by  means  of  the  optio 
nerve  to  the  brain.1 

The  great  acuteness  of  this  sense  is  owing  to  the 
vast  number  of  extremely  minute  nerve  fibres  spread 
out  on  the  retina.2  An  object  of  only  -§w  of  an  inch  in 
diameter  is  usually  visible  to  the  naked  eye ;  and  if  it 
powerfully  reflect  the  light,  it  will  be  visible  though 
much  smaller.3  A  line  is  much  more  readily  seen  than 
a  point,  and  objects  which  cannot  be  discerned  when 
single  become  visible  if  placed  in  a  row.  We  are  able 
to  see  two  points  as  distinct  when  they  subtend  an 
angle  of  about  40  seconds. 


1  M  The  essential  constituents  of  the  optical  apparatus  of  the  eye 
may  be  thus  enumerated  :  a  nervous  structure  to  receive  and  trans- 
mit to  the  brain  the  impressions  of  light ;  certain  refracting  media 
for  the  purpose  of  so  disposing  of  the  rays  of  light  traversing  them 
as  to  throw  a  correct  image  of  an  external  body  on  the  retina ;  a 
contractile  diaphragm  with  a  central  aperture  for  regulating  the 
quantity  of  light  admitted  into  the  eye  ;  and  a  contractile  structure 
by  which  the  chief  refracting  medium  shall  be  so  controlled  as  to 
enable  objects  to  be  seen  at  various  distances." — Dr.  Kirkes. 

8  "  The  great  superiority  of  the  eye  as  a  medium  for  perceiving 
the  outer  world  lies  in  the  power  of  independent  sensibility  to 
minute  points"  arising  from  "the  minute  size  of  the  subdivisions 
of  the  retina  capable  of  independent  sensation.  .  .  .  The  nerve  of 
vision  must  needs  consist  of  a  number  of  independent  fibres,  main- 
taining their  distinctness  all  the  way  to  the  brain,  and  capable  of 
causing  distinct  waves  of  diffusion  throughout  the  entire  cerebral 
mass.  .  .  .  .In  the  act  of  perceiving  the  objects  about  us,  this  distinct- 
ness enables  us  to  hold  in  our  minds  all  the  parts  of  a  complicated 
scene,  each  in  the  proper  place,  without  mingling  or  confusion.  .  .  . 
In  the  nerve  of  sight  there  cannot  probably  be  less  than  one  hundred 
thousand  fibres,  and  there  may  be  many  more." — Prof.  Bain. 

8  "  It  is  possible  to  see  a  brilliant  point  in  an  angle  even  so  small 
as  •}  of  a  second,  and  a  sharp  eye  can  see  a  body  the  ^  of  a  line  in 
diameter,  that  is,  about  the  Tfo  part  of  an  inch."— Prof.  M'Kendrick. 
"  Dr.  Alfred  Mayer  estimated  and  demonstrated  by  actual  experiment 
that  the  smallest  black  spot  on  a  white  ground  visible  to  the  naked 
eye  is  about  -^  of  an  inch  at  the  distance  of  normal  vision — namely, 
10  inches ;  and  that  a  line,  which  of  course  has  the  element  of 
extension,  y^  of  an  inch  in  thickness,  could  be  seen." — Anon, 


THE   SENSES.  193 

The  duration  of  a  stimulus,  in  order  to  call  forth 
a  visual  sensation,  may  be  exceedingly  short ;  and  the 
impression  made  upon  the  retina  has  a  certain  per- 
sistence after  the  removal  of  the  cause,  varying  with 
the  brightness  of  the  original  light,  and  the  existing 
condition  of  the  eye,  from  -£$  to  ^V  of  a  second.1  Two 
or  more  sensations  will  appear  as  one  if  the  interval 
between  them  be  less  than  from  ^V  to  TV  of  a  second, 
and  here  we  have  an  explanation  of  a  number  of  curious 
visual  phenomena.  It  is  well  known  that  if  an  ignited 
point  be  moved  rapidly  round  in  a  circle,  it  ceases  to 
be  seen  as  a  single  point,  and  presents  the  appearance 
of  an  unbroken  circle.  It  is  in  consequence  of  this 
persistence  of  an  image  on  the  retina  that  the  wink- 
ing of  the  eyelids  forms  no  impediment  to  continued 
vision.  Light  must  be  of  a  certain  intensity  to 
produce  a  luminous  impression,  and  after  the  retina 
has  been  for  some  time  in  the  dark  its  excitability  is 
increased. 

The  various  movements  of  the  eye  are  effected  by  six 
nicely  adjusted  muscles,  of  which  four  are  straight 
(recti)  and  two  oblique.  By  means  of  these  acting 
singly  or  in  combination,  the  various  nice  and  intricate 
movements  of  the  eye  are  performed.  They  are  largely 
concerned  in  almost  every  act  of  sight,  and  serve  to 
bring  the  different  parts  of  an  object  successively  into 
the  axis  of  vision  where  the  sense  of  sight  is  most 
acute.  They  also  enable  us  to  follow  objects  in  motion, 

1  "  Impressions  made  upon  the  retina  do  not  disappear  instantly, 
but  gradually  fade  away,  and  in  so  doing  occupy  a  certain  period  of 
time,  which  varies  with  the  brightness  of  the  original  light,  the 
existing  condition  of  the  eye,  and  the  illumination  to  which  it  is 
exposed.  ...  It  is  a  phenomenon  analogous  to  that  of  the  continu- 
ance of  sound  in  the  ear,  and  subserves  an  important  purpose  of 
keeping  vision  continuous  and  distinct  during  the  winking  of  the 
ey  elide.* — Dr,  Draper. 


194  MEMORY. 

and  to  determine  their  direction,  velocity,  &c. ;  and  by 
means  of  them  we  judge  of  the  form,  size,  and  other 
qualities  of  objects,  distance,  direction,  and  the  like.1 
Sight  is  undoubtedly  the  most  intellectual  of  our 
senses,  whether  we  regard  the  number  and  variety  of  the 
ideas  which  it  presents  to  the  mind,  the  highly  refined 
nature  of  its  enjoyments,  or  its  constant  and  unwearied 
activity.2  In  none  of  the  other  senses  does  the  mind 
itself  come  so  largely  and  so  manifestly  into  play. 
What  is  seen  by  the  bodily  eye  is  only  a  small  part  of 
what  is  conveyed  to  the  mind  through  this  sense.  In 
the  former  we  have  only  the  outline  or  form  and  colour 
of  certain  objects  imprinted  upon  the  flat  surface  of  the 
retina ;  and  out  of  these,  with  their  extreme  delicacy 
and  minute  variations,  the  mind  forms  that  endless 
variety  of  ideas  that  go  to  make  up  our  visible  world. 
The  retinal  field  of  vision  is  very  limited,  but  the  field 
of  vision  as  presented  to  the  mind  is  of  no  determinate 
limit.  All  the  objects  depicted  upon  the  retina  are 
represented  on  a  plane  surface,  whereas  to  the  mind 
they  appear  as  standing  at  various  distances.  It  is 
only  through  the  experience  gained  by  practice  that  we 
are  able  to  distinguish  the  different  distances  of  objects. 
Indeed,  visual  images  are  little  more  than  signs,  which 

1  "Many  of  the  aspects  of  the  external  world  impress  themselves 
upon  the  moving  apparatus  of  the  eye.     The  surface  of  the  sea,  the 
drifting  of  clouds,  the  fall  of  rain,  the  waving  of  trees  in  the  wind, 
the  rushing  of  water,  the  darting  of  meteors,  the  rising  and  setting 
of  the  sun,  and  all  mixed  impressions  of  spectacle  and  movement." — 
Prof.  Bain. 

2  "  As  regards  intellect,  the  sensations  of  vision  have  a  marked 
superiority  among  the  senses.     They  admit  of  being  identified  and 
discriminated  to  an  extraordinary  extent  .  .  .  and  they  have  a  cor- 
responding superiority  as  respects  their  being  retained  and  remem- 
bered. .  .  .  Neither  tastes  nor  smells,  nor  touches  nor  sounds,  can 
compare  with  sights  in  the  property  of  mental  persistence  and  reviva- 
bility."— Prof.  Bain. 


THE   SENSES.  195 

the  mind  learns  by  degrees  to  understand  and  interpret ; 
and  the  images  and  their  interpretation  come  to  be  so 
closely  interwoven  in  the  mind,  that  it  is  difficult  or 
impossible  in  all  cases  to  say  what  belongs  to  the  one 
and  what  to  the  other,  and  yet  it  is  of  consequence  to 
keep  the  distinction  clearly  in  view.1  From  the  large 
part  that  the  mind  plays  in  our  visual  sensations,  we 
are  liable  to  be  deceived  in  regard  to  what  we  actually 
see,  particularly  when  under  strong  mental  excite- 
ment.2 

Indeed,  careful  training  is  necessary  in  order  to  be 
able  to  see  clearly  and  accurately  what  is  before  us — to 
see  all  the  parts  of  a  complex  whole  in  their  due  pro- 
portion and  in  their  proper  relation  to  each  other. 
Simple  as  it  may  seem,  it  is  very  difficult  for  the 
Untrained  eye  to  observe  accurately  what  is  before  it.8 

1  tt  The  mind  is  constantly  co-operating  in  the  acts  of  vision,  so 
that  at  last  it  becomes  difficult  to  say  what  belongs  to  mere  sensation 
and  what  to  the  influence  of  the  mind." — Dr.  Kirkes.     "  The  figure 
of  a  cube  or  sphere,  distance,  and  magnitude  are  not  acquired  by 
vision  alone.     Persons  who  have  been  suddenly  cured  of  blindness 
have  no  conception  of  the  distance  or  magnitude  of  objects." — Dr. 
Abercrombie.      "  Regarding   the    perception  of  solidity   .   .   .   Mr. 
Wheatstone  now  inclines  to  the  view  that  there  is  a  mental  effect 
produced  over  and  above  the  optical  effect,  which  mental  suggestion 
overrides  the  optical  impression,  and  gives  a  perception    really 
different  from  the  literal  sensation." — Prof.  Bain. 

2  "  The  eye  looks,  but  it  is  the  mind  that  sees  ;  and  when  the 
mind  contemplates  phenomena  under  a  preoccupation  of  thought, 
it  interprets  them  in  the  light  of  its  own  idea  ;  so  that  unless  that 
general  idea  be  a  right  one,  its  views  of  every  phenomenon  are  in  some 
measure  perverted."— Edward  White.     "  The  mind  may  be  readily 
deceived  even  in  spite  of  itself,  as  the  phenomena  of  the  stereoscope 
prove;  and  spectres  having  their  origin  in  natural  or  diseased  con- 
ditions of  the  brain  may  accurately  replace  images  that  have  been 
painted  in  the  eye." — Dr.  Draper. 

8  "  To  the  natural  philosopher,  the  descriptive  poet,  the  painter, 
and  the  sculptor,  as  well  as  to  the  common  observer,  the  power  most 
important  to  cultivate,  and  at  the  same  time  hardest  to  acquire,  if 
that  of  seeing  what  is  before  him." — G.  P.  Marsh. 


196  MEMOET. 

It  must  be  taught  to  observe,  to  compare,  to  analyse, 
to  look  at  things  on  all  sides,  in  order  to  see  correctly. 
As  the  sense  of  touch  is  largely  employed  in  the  first 
instruction  of  this  sense,  it  should  be  frequently  had 
recourse  to  in  its  after-training.  In  no  other  sense  is 
the  constant  verification  of  what  is  perceived,  or  ima- 
gined to  be  perceived,  more  necessary  than  in  this.1 

There  exists  in  many  respects  a  close  analogy  between 
the  senses  of  sight  and  hearing.  If  we  strike  a  bar  of 
iron  it  emits  a  sound ;  if  we  strike  it  frequently  and 
rapidly  it  becomes  red-hot,  and  gives  forth  light.  Both 
light  and  sound  travel  from  their  source,  and  become 
feebler  the  farther  they  are  removed  from  it.  Both  are 
capable  of  reflection,  and  in  both  the  angle  of  reflection 
is  the  same  as  the  angle  of  incidence.  In  form  and 
colour  we  have  beauty  and  harmony  and  their  oppo- 
sites,  as  we  have  sweetness  and  harmony  and  their 
contraries  in  sound.  While  the  ear  notes  its  objects 
with  regard  to  time,  the  eye  contemplates  its  objects 
with  regard  to  space.  The  ear  and  eye  furnish  the 
mind  with  the  greatest  number  of  its  ideas,  the  im- 
pressions conveyed  by  them  are  most  vivid  and  lasting, 
and  they  are  also  those  that  most  powerfully  affect  our 
emotional  nature  and  stimulate  our  mental  and  physical 
activities. 

Sight  possesses  a  wonderful  power  over  our  muscular 
movements  in  exciting,  as  well  as  in  directing  and  con- 
trolling them.  The  sight  of  a  particular  movement 

1  "  In  most  objects  of  sight  there  are  numerous  parts.  ...  Of 
these,  the  parts  that  are  more  seen  by  one  man  are  less  seen  by 
another ;  whence  it  is  probable  that  from  an  object  of  any  complexity 
no  two  men  ever  receive  precisely  the  same  sensations." — James 
Mill.  "  The  harmonious  results  of  the  perceptions  of  feeling  and  of 
eight  depend  even  in  the  adult  upon  a  constant  comparison  of  th« 
two."— H.  Helmholta. 


THE   SENSES.  197 

immediately  calls  out  the  desire  to  imitate  it ;  and  this 
feeling  is  particularly  strong  in  the  young,  and  consti- 
tutes an  important  auxiliary  in  their  education.  In 
like  manner,  when  the  eye  is  steadily  fixed  upon  any 
of  our  movements,  particularly  if  they  be  of  an  unusual 
or  difficult  nature,  it  is  in  general  more  accurately 
performed  than  when  this  is  not  the  case.  The  child, 
in  learning  to  walk  or  dance,  fixes  his  eyes  upon  his 
feet,  as  he  fixes  them  upon  his  fingers  in  learning  to 
play  the  piano.1  Indeed,  skill  in  handicrafts  and  in 
the  use  of  weapons  depends  more  upon  the  training 
and  acuteness  of  the  eye  than  is  commonly  supposed.2 
The  marksman,  the  bowler,  the  billiard-player,  must 
each  fix  his  eye  intently  upon  the  object  at  which  he 
aims.3  In  certain  kinds  of  paralysis  the  patient  has 
the  command  of  his  limbs  as  long  as  his  eyes  are  fixed 

1  "  In  learning  to  dance,  the  scholar  desires  to  look  at  his  feet  and 
legs,  in  order  to  judge  by  seeing  when  they  are  in  a  proper  position. 
By  degrees  he  learns  to  judge  of  this  by  feeling  ;  but  the  visible  idea 
left  partly  by  the  view  of  his  master's  motions,  partly  by  that  of  his 
own,  seems  to  be  the  chief  associated  circumstance  that  introduces 
the  proper  motions." — D.  Hartley.  "Where  the  movements  which 
it  is  desired  to  execute  are  complex  and  difficult,  and  we  have  to 
learn  them  by  imitation  of  the  movements  of  other  persons,  the 
sense  of  sight  is  then  doubly  brought  into  play.  It  is  necessary  at 
the  commencement  and  during  the  continuance  of  our  efforts  to  copy 
such  movements  to  look  alternately  at  our  model  and  at  our  own 
moving  members." — Dr.  Bastian.  "  The  difficulty  of  imitation  is 
greatest  of  all  in  those  parts  not  within  the  sweep  of  the  eye,  as  the 
head  and  features." — Prof.  Bain. 

* "  In  mere  mechanical  copying,  as  in  handicraft  operations, 
military  drill,  dancing,  posture,  and  the  like,  .  .  .  granting  a  suffi- 
cient flexibility  and  variety  of  fie  spontaneous  movements — that  is 
to  say,  facility,  the  observant  and  imbibing  eye  is  the  next  grand 
requisite." — Prof.  Bain. 

8  "  Skill  in  marksmanship,  whether  with  firearms  or  other  projec- 
tile weapons,  depends  more  upon  the  training  of  the  eye  tnan  is 
generally  supposed,  and  I  have  often  found  particularly  good  shcti 
to  possess  an  almost  telescopic  vision." — G.  P.  Marsh. 
15 


198  MEMOEY. 

upon  them,  but  loses  it  the  moment  they  are  with- 
drawn.1 

As  a  rule,  we  remember  best  what  we  have  seen, 
and  in  cases  of  loss  of  memory  we  often  find  that  the 
sensations  of  sight  are  retained,  while  those  of  the 
other  senses  are  lost.  Thus  a  sentence  when  written 
has  been  found  to  be  readily  understood,  though  when 
spoken  it  was  unintelligible;  and  on  the  other  hand, 
persons  have  been  found  able  to  write  what,  from  mere 
obliviousness  of  the  sounds,  they  were  unable  to  utter. 
Some  persons,  too,  may  have  observed  that  when  in 
doubt  as  to  the  spelling  of  a  word,  they  have  been  put 
right  by  recalling  the  appearance  of  it  or  by  writing  it 
down.  All  artificial  modes  of  improving  the  memory 
are  based  upon  associating  what  we  wish  to  remember 
with  visible  objects.2 

To  see  clearly  is  a  valuable  aid  even  to  thinking 
clearly.  In  all  our  mental  operations  we  owe  much 
to  sight.  To  recollect,  to  think,  to  imagine,  is  to  see 
internally, — to  call  up  more  or  less  distinct  visual 
images  of  things  before  the  mind.8  In  order  to  under- 

1  "  The  patient  who  cannot  feel  either  the  contact  of  his  foot  with 
the  ground  or  the  muscular  effort  he  is  making,  can  manage  to  stand 
and  walk  by  looking  at  his  limbs  ;  and  the  woman  who  cannot  feel 
the  pressure  of  her  child  upon  her  arms,  can  yet  sustain  it  so  long  as 
she  keeps  her  eyes  fixed  upon  it,  but  no  longer." — Dr.  Carpenter. 

2  "  We  must  connect  the  things  we  wish  to  remember  with  the 
immediate  objects  of  our  senses  that  offer  themselves  daily  to  our 
attention,  but  particularly  with  the  objects  of  our  sight,  the  most 
vigorous  and  lively  of  all  our  senses,  and  of  which  the  objects  are 
perhaps   more   numerous   than   those  of  all  our  other  sense*   pnt 
together."— Prof.  Barron.     "  When  a  variety  of  ideas  are  associated 
together,  the  visible  idea,  being  more  glaring  and  distinct  tuun  the 
rest,  performs  the  office  of  a  symbol  to  all  the  rest,  suggests  them, 
and  connects  them  together." — D.  Hartley. 

8  "  To  recollect,  to  imagine,  to  think,  is  to  see  internally,  and  to 
call  up  the  more  or  less  enfeebled  and  transformed  visual  image  of 
things." — H.  Taine.  "  Cohering  trains  and  aggregates  of  the  sensa- 


THE   SENSES.  199 

stand  a  thing  it  is  generally  necessary  to  see  it,  and 
what  a  man  has  not  seen  he  cannot  properly  realise  or 
image  distinctly  to  his  mind.1  Hence  the  importance 
in  education,  of  teaching  as  much  as  possible  by  the 
eye, — showing  the  objects  we  wish  to  be  known,  and 
going  through  the  operations  we  wish  to  be  understood 
and  followed.2  The  sight  of  an  object  will  usually  give 
a  more  clear  and  lasting  impression  of  it  than  any 
amount  of  verbal  description.  The  fixing  of  the  eye 
intently  upon  an  object  seems  to  have  the  power  of 
holding  the  thoughts,  and  preventing  them  from 
wandering,  even  though  the  object  may  have  no  real 
connection  with  the  subject  of  our  thoughts.  The 
restless,  unsettled  eye  of  the  insane,  unable  or  unwill- 
ing to  fix  itself  upon  any  object,  has  probably  much  to 
do  with  the  wild  thoughts  that  are  coursing  through 

tions  of  sight  make  more  than  any  other  thing,  perhaps  more  than 
all  other  things  put  together,  the  material  of  thought,  memory,  and 
imagination." — Prof.  Bain. 

1  "  The  child,  and  perhaps  the  man  as  well,  only  knows  well  what 
is  shown  him,  and  the  image  of  things  is  the  true  medium  between 
their  abstract  idea  and  his  personal  experience." — A.  Vinet. 

2  "  I  am  of  opinion  that  it  is  more  than  ever  needful  we  should 
teach  as  much  as  possible  by  the  eye,, — that  in  teaching  any  branch 
of  natural  science  the  demonstration  should  be  combined  with  oral 
description.     The  student  should  see  what  is  described  ;  and  where 
it  is  not  possible  for  the  teacher  to  exhibit  illustrative  specimens, 
good    models,    drawings,   and    explanatory    diagrams    should    be 
supplied." — Dr.  L.  8.  Beale:  The  Microscope.     The  distinguished 
surgeon,  Professor  Syme,  in  speaking  of  the  system  he  introduced  of 
bringing  the  patients  before  his  pupils,  says  :  "  The  great  advantage 
of  this  system  is  that  it  makes  an  impression  at  the  same  time  on  the 
eye  and  ear,  which  is  known  by  experience  to  be  more  indelible  than 
any  other,  and  thus  conveys  instruction  of  the  most  lasting  character. 
...  It  is  only  when  an  impression  is  made  upon  the  eye  that  oral 
instruction  in  regard  to  such  matters  produces  a  lasting  impression  ; 
and  unless  the  student  can  be  shown  either  the  things  spoken  ofj  or 
some  evidence  of  their  operation,  little  will  be  retained  of  what  if 
told  him,  however  important  may  be  its  bearing  upon  his  pro- 
fessional  life." 


'200  MEMORY. 

his  brain.  Absorbed  on  what  is  going  on  within,  he 
cannot,  or  will  not,  give  attention  to  anything  else 
which  might  tend  to  dispel  the  fascination.1  Hence,  in 
all  probability,  the  change  of  scene  that  is  commonly 
recommended  in  such  cases  acts  in  the  way  of  serving 
to  recall  his  thoughts  to  what  is  going  on  around  him. 
There  seems  even  reason  to  believe  that  if  the  eye  were 
well  trained  and  duly  exercised  it  would  tend,  in  many 
cases,  to  prevent  insanity. 

The  eye  has  a  wonderful  power  in  lighting  up  and 
animating  the  countenance,  and  reflects  in  a  large 
degree  what  is  passing  in  the  mind.  Every  passion  of 
the  mind  has  its  appropriate  expression  in  the  eye, 
which  sometimes  speaks  with  a  power  and  an  eloquence 
that  cannot  be  equalled  even  by  the  lips.2 

The  sense  of  sight  is  capable  of  extraordinary  im- 
provement by  education,  and  that  in  the  way  either  of 
increased  quickness  or  readiness  in  the  perception  of 
objects  generally,  or  in  the  power  of  discerning  bodies 
of  extreme  minuteness,  and  in  discriminating  the 
slightest  shades  of  difference  in  form,  size,  colour,  &c.3 

1  "  In  a  general  way  in  persons  with  hallucinations  .  .  .   the 
phenomena  of  the  external  world  no  longer  produce  in  the  sensorium 
anything  more  than  an  abortive  impression.  .  .  .  The  patient,  thus 
shut  up  from  external  sounds,  a  stranger  to  everything  that  passes 
around  him,  lends  but  an  inattentive  ear  to  the  things  of  the  external 
world.     He  lives,  as  people  say,  in  himself,  upon  remembrances  of 
the  past,  and  upon  his  habitual  delirious  conceptions." — /.  Luys. 

2  "  It  is  chiefly  the  eye  which  betrays  in  our  face  the  state  of  our 
mind  and  thoughts  ;  and  this  is  done  for  the  most  part  by  the  move- 
ment and  position  of  the  eyeball,  associated  with  which  are,  of 
course,  the  action  of  the  facial  muscles,  of  the  eyelids,  as  well  as 
the  power  possessed  by  the  eye  of  accommodating  itself  to  a  change 
of  circumstance.     A  troubled  look  lowers  the  eyes,  an  animated  one 
raises  them  ;  and  thus  the  mind,  while  it  derives  mental  nourish- 
ment from  without  through  the  eye,  reveals  its  inner  actions  through 
the  same  organ." — Prof.  Bernstein. 

8  "  The  sense  of  vision  may  vary  in  its  degree  of  perfection,  as  re« 


THE   SENSES.  20i 

The  exercise  of  the  sight  in  one  direction,  or  on  one  class 
of  objects,  does  not  of  necessity  improve  or  strengthen 
it  in  other  directions,  or  for  other  classes  of  objects. 
In  each  case  there  is  developed  a  certain  readiness  or 
aptitude  for  noting  appearances,  or  minute  shades  of 
difference,  of  particular  kinds,  which  pass  unnoticed  by 
those  who  have  not  been  accustomed  to  observe  the 
same  kind  of  phenomena.1  It  is  by  the  habitual 
direction  of  our  attention  to  the  effects  produced  upon 
our  consciousness  by  the  impressions  made  upon  the 
eye  and  transmitted  to  the  sensorium  that  our  sight, 
like  our  other  senses,  is  trained.  (See  "Attention".) 

gards  either  the  faculty  of  adjustments  to  different  distances,  the 
power  of  distinguishing  accurately  the  particles  of  the  retina  affected, 
sensibility  to  light  and  darkness,  or  the  perception  of  the  different 
shades  of  colour." — Dr.  Kirkes. 

1  "  The  microscopist,  who  is  constantly  on  the  outlook  for  the 
various  forms  of  organic  structure  with  which  his  mind  is  familiar, 
discerns  these  without  difficulty  or  hesitation  where  an  ordinary 
observer  sees  nothing  but  *  oonfuaed  jumble  of  tissue." — Dr. 
Carpenter. 


CHAPTEE  V. 

MENTAL    IMAGES. 

**  After  an  object  is  removed  or  the  eye  shut,  we  still  retain  an  image  of  the 
thing  seen,  though  more  obscure  than  when  we  saw  it ;  and  this  it  is  the  Latins 
call  imagination,  and  apply  the  same  .  .  to  all  the  other  senses.  But  the  Greeks 
call  it  fancy  (Phantasici),  which  signifies  appearance." — Malebranche. 

Aristotle  maintains  "  that  of  every  object  of  thought  there  must  be  in  the 
mind  some  form,  phantasm,  or  species;  that  things  sensible  are  perceived  and 
remembered  by  means  of  sensible  phantasms,  and  things  intelligible  by  intelligible 
phantasms ;  and  that  these  phantasms  have  the  form  of  the  object  without  the 
matter,  as  the  impression  of  a  seal  upon  wax  has  the  form  of  a  seal  without  its 
matter  ". — Lord  Raines. 

"  The  word  image  is  borrowed  from  the  history  of  vision ;  strictly,  it  only 
denotes  the  cerebral  revival  of  the  optical  sensation ;  it  is  by  extension  that  we  have 
applied  the  same  name  to  the  cerebral  revival  of  muscular  and  tactile  sensation,  of 
sensations  of  sound,  taste,  and  smell."— H.  Taine. 

"  The  word  image  must  be  understood  as  designating  any  recalled  feeling  of 
whatever  kind  which  wants  something  of  the  signature  and  energy  of  the  feeling  or 
after-feeling  it  recalls.  It  may  be  a  sight,  a  sound,  a  taste,  a  touch,  a  pain,  an 
effort,  a  terror,  a  word."—  G.  H.  Lewes. 

We  may  define  an  image,  then,  as  "  a  repetition  or  revival  of  the  sensation, 
while  at  the  same  time  we  distinguish  it  from  the  sensation,"  among  other  things 
"  by  its  origin,  since  it  has  the  sensation  as  its  antecedent,  while  the  sensation  is 
preceded  by  an  excitation  of  the  nerve  ". — H.  Taine. 

"  Sensation  and  after-sensation  have  their  origin  in  an  objective  stimulus,  the 
image  has  its  stimulation  from  within." — 6?.  H.  Lewes. 

"  That  which  constitutes  recollection  or  an  act  of  memory  is  the  present  image 
which  a  past  sensation  has  left  in  us,  an  image  which  .  .  .  seems  to  us  the  sensation 
itself."—  H.  Taine. 

THR  physical  motion  or  change  which  occasions  a 
sensation  must  be  apprehended  by  the  mind  before 
it  can  be  perceived  or  become  an  object  of  conscious- 
ness. Impressions  are,  doubtless,  being  constantly 
made  upon  the  senses,  and  their  influence  conveyed  to 
the  brain,  that  never  come  within  the  range  of  con- 
sciousness, because  the  mind  fails  to  apprehend  them. 


MENTAL  IMAGES.  203 

In  order  that  a  sensation  may  be  taken  up  and  per- 
ceived by  the  mind,  it  is  necessary  that  an  image  of  it 
be  formed.  The  mind  can  take  no  account  of  the 
physical  movements  or  changes  that  may  be  taking 
place  in  the  body,  except  in  so  far  as  they  give  rise  to 
mental  images.1  It  can  perceive  nothing,  understand 
nothing,  remember  nothing  but  images.2 

We  use  the  term  "  mental  image  "  in  preference  to 
the  corresponding  word  "idea,"  employed  by  Locke 
and  others,  in  consequence  of  the  frequent  vagueness 
and  indefiniteness  of  the  latter.8  A  mental  image  may 
be  said  to  be  the  mental  side  of  a  physical  change  or 


1 "  It  is  the  mental  not  the  bodily  impression  that  constitutes  the 
actual  perception." — Dr.  Carpenter. 

2  Is  not  thought  "  principally  a  calling  up  and  arranging  before 
us  of  the  images  of  physical  things  which  have  been  given  us  through 
sense?  .  .  .  Even  in  thinking  of  moral  and  abstract  subjects,  we 
shall  find  that  they  present  themselves  to  us  embodied  in  somewhat 
of  a  sensuous  or  physical  garb,  and  at  least  always  with  distinct  time 
and  space  properties,  for  these  are  essential  elements  of  human 
thought." — R.  S.  Wyld.  "  To  recollect,  to  imagine,  to  think,  is  ,  .  . 
to  call  up  the  more  or  less  enfeebled  and  transformed  visual  images 
of  things.  .  .  In  all  the  higher  operations  we  affect  by  means  of 
abstract  names — judgment,  reasoning,  abstraction,  generalisation, 
combination  of  ideas — there  are  images  more  or  less  effaced  or  more 
or  less  distinct." — H.  Taine.  "  Locke  holds  that  we  cannot  perceive, 
remember,  nor  imagine  anything  but  by  having  an  idea  or  image 
of  it  in  the  mind." — Lord  Kames.  "  Nothing  is  remembered  but 
through  its  idea." — Jos.  Mill. 

8  "  The  word  *  idea '  .  .  being  that  term  which  I  think  serves 
best  to  stand  for  whatsoever  is  the  object  of  the  understanding  when 
a  man  thinks,  I  have  used  it  to  express  whatever  is  meant  by 
phantasm,  notion,  species,  or  whatever  it  is  which  the  mind  can  be 
employed  about  in  thinking."— -John  Locke.  "The  word  *  idea,'  as  one 
prostituted  to  all  meanings,  it  Trere  perhaps  better  altogether  to 
discard.  As  for  the  representations  of  the  imagination,  or  phantasy, 
I  would  employ  the  terms  image  or  phantasm,  it  being  distinctly 
understood  that  these  terms  are  applied  to  denote  the  representations, 
not  of  our  visible  perceptions  merely  as  the  terms  taken  literally 
would  indicate,  but  of  our  sensible  perceptions  in  general." — Sir  W* 
Hamilton. 


204  MEMORY. 

condition  of  body — a  mental  representation,  or  a  re- 
presentation to  the  mind  of  a  physical  fact.  In  sensa- 
tion, as  we  have  seen,  all  that  passes  from  the  organ 
of  sense  to  the  brain  is  a  form  of  motion.  The  sense- 
organ  is  acted  upon  by  an  external  object,  and  a  form 
of  motion  is  set  up  which  is  conveyed  to  the  brain, 
and  from  the  different  kinds  of  motion  so  conveyed  the 
mind  constructs  images  to  itself  of  all  the  vast  variety 
of  qualities  or  properties  that  we  commonly  attribute 
to  external  objects.1 

These  images  grow  and  acquire  strength  and  clear- 
ness by  slow  degrees.  To  the  opening  mind  of  the 
child  the  beautiful  landscape  or  the  lovely  flower 
presents  only  vague  patches  of  colour.  But  by  degrees, 
as  the  same  sensations  are  repeated,  the  mind  comes 
to  distinguish  the  different  parts,  and  the  images 
formed  of  them  in  the  mind  become  more  distinct  and 
clear.8 


1  a  The  impression  on  the  nerve  can  have  no  resemblance  to  the 
ideas  suggested  in  the  mind.     All  that  we  can  say  is  that  the  agita- 
tions of  the  nerves  of  the  outward  senses  are  the  signals  which  the 
Author  of  Nature  has  made  the  means  of  correspondence  with  the 
realities.     There  is  no  more  resemblance  between  the  impressions  on 
the  senses,  and  the  ideas  excited  by  them,  than  there  is  between  the 
sound  and  the  conception  raised  in  the  mind  of  that  man  who,  look- 
ing out  on  a  dark  and  stormy  sea,  hears  the  report  of  a  cannon, 
which  conveys  to  him  the  idea  of  despair  and  shipwreck." — Sir  C. 
Bell. 

2  "  The  eye  learns  to  discriminate  colours  and  shades  of  colour 
where  at  first  there  was  only  a  vague  blur  of  feeling.     The  flower  we 
see  is  not  seen  by  the  infant ;  what  the  infant  sees  is  what  he  has 
learned  to  see;  slowly  the  blur  of  feeling  differentiates,  and  the  stem, 
leaves,  petals,  &c.,  once  observed,  are  ever  after  observable  ;  they 
then  exist  for  the  observer. .  Did  they  not  exist  before  ?    Certainly 
they  did,  but  only  for  some  observant  mind,  not  for  the  infant.  .  .  . 
To  the  mind  of  a  philosopher,  every  fact  of  colour  is  a  complex  of 
visible  and  invisible  facts,  which  differs  from  what  it  is  in  the  mind 
of  a  child  or  a  peasant  as  the  idea  of  a  lily  in  the  mind  of  a  botanist 
Differs  from  that  in  the  mind  of  a  savage."— G.  H.  Lewes. 


MENTAL  IMAGES.  295 

The  infant  mind  is  at  first  only  conscious  of  sensa- 
tions :  it  simply  receives  the  impressions  that  are  made 
upon  it  by  external  objects.  It  knows  nothing  of  what 
they  are  or  whence  they  come — has,  in  fact,  no  percep- 
tion of  them.  By  degrees,  however,  as  the  same 
sensation?  recur,  it  comes  to  act  upon  them :  it  com- 
pares the  present  impression  with  the  images  of  past 
impressions  of  the  same  kind;  marks  in  what  they 
resemble  and  in  what  they  differ  from  each  other; 
distinguishes  them  as  different  from  the  Ego,  or  I,  and 
as  belonging  to  the  Non-Ego  ;  localises  them  ;  and,  in  a 
word,  perceives  them.1  Perception  is  that  act  of  the 
mind  by  which  we  refer  sensations  to  particular  parts 
of  the  body  or  to  external  objects.  In  every  act  of 
perception  what  is  perceived  is  not  so  much  what  is 
actually  present  to  the  sense  at  the  time,  as  the  result 
of  a  number  of  past  sensations  of  a  similar  kind  which 
come  into  the  mind  at  the  same  time,  and  serve  to 
explain  or  make  clearer  and  more  manifest  this  one.2 
Hence,  the  more  frequently  we  have  a  particular  sensa- 
tion in  the  mind,  the  more  do  the  images  of  past 
sensations  come  into  the  formation  of  the  present 
image,  which  thus  becomes  more  general  and  less 
particular.3 

1  "  There  can  be  no  perception  of  an  object — nothing  but  vague 
feeling — unless  with  present  sensations  there  are  linked  other  sen- 
sations in  ideal  reproduction. * — G.  H.  Lewes. 

8  "  The  mind,  according  to  Cud  worth,  perceives,  by  occasion  oi 
outward  objects,  as  much  more  than  is  represented  to  it  by  sense  as 
a  learned  man  does  in  the  best-written  book,  than  an  illiterate  person 
or  brute." — Dugald  Stewart. 

8  "  Artists  are  as  a  class  possessed  of  the  visualising  power  (that 
is,  of  seeing  well-defined  images  in  the  mind's  eye)  in  a  high  degree, 
and  they  are  at  the  same  time  pre-eminently  distinguished  by  their 
gifts  of  generalisation.  They  are  of  all  men  the  most  capable  of 
producing  forms  that  are  not  copies  of  any  individual,  but  represent 
the  characteristic  features  of  classes." — F.  Gallon. 


206  MEMORY. 

In  order  to  consciousness  a  change  from  one  state 
or  condition  of  mind  to  another  is  necessary.  We 
are  only  conscious  of  a  new  sensation  or  thought 
as  we  feel  it  to  be  a  change  from  a  past  sensation  or  a 
previous  thought.  While  the  new  sensation  is  present 
the  past  sensation  exists  in  the  mind  as  an  after-sen- 
sation or  image.  Did  the  past  sensation  disappear 
entirely  from  the  mind  the  moment  it  was  past  there 
would  be  no  consciousness  of  change,  and  consequently 
no  sensation.  Hence,  philosophers  tell  us  that  if  we 
were  constantly  subject  to  one  impression  it  would  be 
as  if  we  had  no  impression  at  all,  for  the  mind  would 
have  no  consciousness  of  it. 

Further,  in  order  to  recognise  a  present  impression 
as  the  same  as  or  similar  to  a  past,  we  must  have  an 
image  of  the  past  impression  in  the  mind.  A  man 
might  look  on  the  face  of  his  most  intimate  friend  and 
fail  to  recognise  him  if  he  had  not  an  image  of  that 
friend  in  his  mind.  He  might  perceive  him  as  a  person, 
but  if  his  mind  were  absorbed  in  something  else,  or  if 
he  were  what  is  termed  "absent-minded,"  there  might 
no  image  present  itself  to  his  mind  by  which  he  could 
recognise  him.  When  one  is  engaged  in  seeking  for  a 
thing,  if  he  keep  the  image  of  it  clearly  before  the  mind, 
he  will  be  very  likely  to  find  it,  and  that  too,  probably, 
where  it  would  otherwise  have  escaped  his  notice.1  So, 
when  one  is  engaged  in  thinking  on  a  subject,  thoughts 
of  things  resembling  it,  or  bearing  upon  it,  and  tending 
to  illustrate  it,  come  up  on  every  side.  Truly,  we  may 
well  say  of  the  mind,  as  has  been  said  of  the  eye,  that 

1  "  No  one  ever  found  the  walking  fern  who  did  not  have  the 
walking  fern  in  his  mind.  A  person  whose  eye  is  full  of  Indian 
relics  picks  them  up  in  every  field  he  walks  through.7'  They  are 
u  quickly  recognised  because  the  eye  has  been  commissioned  to  find 
them  M. — /.  Burroughs. 


MENTAL   IMAGES.  207 

"  it  perceives  only  what  it  brings  with  it  the  power  of 
perceiving".1 

A  mental  image  is  no  mere  mental  abstraction,  but, 
like  all  the  properties  of  mind,  it  has  a  material  basis, 
and  possesses  many  of  the  characteristics  of  matter. 
It  is  an  image  of  something  that  we  have  seen,  or  felt, 
or  thought,  or  done ;  and  as  these  have  all  a  material 
basis,  so  in  our  view  have  the  images  that  belong  to 
them.  In  recalling  the  image  of  a  past  sensation — in 
other  words,  in  recollecting  it,  or  representing  it  to  the 
mind — not  the  brain  alone,  but  also  the  special  organ 
of  sense  is  called  into  exercise.  That  the  body  is 
largely  concerned  in  the  formation  of  these  images  is 
evident  from  the  fact  that  a  large  measure  of  nervous 
waste  takes  place  during  the  operation.  It  is  probably 
in  this  process  that  the  greatest  amount  of  nervous 
waste  takes  place,  and  it  is  this  that  first  feels  fatigue. 
In  reading  a  book,  in  listening  to  a  discourse,  in 
studying  a  subject,  it  is  not  the  eye  that  tires  with 
seeing  or  the  ear  with  hearing,  but  it  is  the  image- 
forming  power  of  the  mind  which  becomes  fatigued,  in 
which  state  we  may  read  page  after  page  of  a  book,  or 
hear  sentence  after  sentence  of  a  speech,  and  have  little 
or  no  notion  of  the  meaning  intended  to  be  conveyed. 
When  the  subject  is  familiar  or  interesting,  this  process 
of  image-formation  is  less  arduous,  and  may  be  carried 
on  for  a  considerable  time  without  fatigue ;  but  when, 
on  the  other  hand,  the  subject  is  unfamiliar  or  distaste- 


1  Where  two  pictures  are  put  before  the  two  eyes,  "  it  is  not 
enough  to  form  the  conscious  intention  of  seeing  first  with  one  eye 
and  then  with  the  other  ;  we  must  form  as  clear  a  notion  as  possible 
of  what  we  expect  to  see.  Then  it  will  actually  appear.  If,  on  the 
other  hand,  we  leave  the  mind  at  liberty,  without  a  fixed  intention 
to  observe  a  definite  object,  that  alternation  between  the  two  pictures 
ensues  which  is  called  retinal  rivalry." — H.  Helmlwlte. 


208  MEMOBY. 

ful,  the  labour  of  forming  the  images  is  much  greater, 
and  the  mind  soon  becomes  fatigued. 

This  subject  of  mental  images  is  one  that  has 
hitherto  received  but  little  attention,  and  yet  it  is  one 
of  the  deepest  interest,  and  calculated  to  throw  light 
upon  many  obscure  mental  phenomena.  Whenever  a 
sensation  or  an  idea  is  presented  to  the  mind,  a  mental 
image  or  conception  of  it  must  be  formed  in  order  to 
its  being  perceived  or  understood.  rvln  proportion  to 
the  clearness  and  distinctness  of  the  image  will  be  the 
understanding  of  it  by  the  mind  and  the  hold  taken  of 
it  by  the  memory.  \ 

As  there  are  different  kinds  of  sensations  and  different 
classes  of  ideas,  there  exists  a  like  variety  among  men- 
tal images,  and  some  minds  excel  in  some,  others  in 
other.1  Thus  some  may  excel  in  the  formation  of 
visual  images,  others  of  auditory  ones.  The  former 
will  remember  best  those  things  that  are  presented  to 
the  eye,  and  of  which  they  can  form  visual  images ;  the 
latter,  such  as  are  addressed  to  the  ear,  and  form  audi- 
tory ones.  The  former  will  take  in  and  remember 
most  readily  what  they  read,  the  latter  what  they  hear; 
the  one  will  learn  a  language  most  easily  by  the  eye, 
from  books ;  the  other  by  the  ear,  from  conversation. 

1  "  In  the  normal  state,  we  think  by  words  mentally  heard,  read, 
or  pronounced,  and  what  passes  through  our  minds  are  images  of 
certain  sounds,  certain  letters,  or  certain  muscular  and  tactile  sensa- 
tions of  the  throat,  the  tongue,  and  the  lips." — H.  Taine.  "Our 
intellectual  operations  are  indeed  mostly  confined  to  the  auditory 
feelings  (as  integrated  into  words)  and  the  visual  feelings  (as  inte- 
grated into  impressions  and  ideas  of  objects,  their  relations  and  their 
motions)." — H.  Spencer.  When  "by  aid  of  mental  words  I  follow 
out  a  long  train  of  reasoning,"  I  have  "  in  my  mind  .  .  .  the  image 
of  the  sounds  and  vocal  movements  which  my  arguments  would 
require  if  uttered  aloud,  the  image  of  the  gestures,  emotions,  and 
events  which  my  conduct  would  excite  in  myself  and  others ". — H* 
Taine. 


MENTAL  IMAGES.  209 

Some,  in  whom  the  visualising  faculty  is  very  strong, 
may,  in  listening  to  a  discourse,  image  every  word  they 
hear  as  it  appears  to  the  eye ;  while  others,  with  the 
auditory  faculty  largely  developed,  will  image  what 
they  read  as  if  it  were  addressed  to  the  ear.1  Others, 
again,  in  reading  or  in  listening  to  a  discourse,  will 
attend  only  to  the  sense  or  meaning,  and  form  sense- 
images.  These  can  give  the  substance  of  what  they 
have  read  or  heard  with  great  accuracy,  though  they 
may  not  perhaps  be  able  to  recall  any  of  the  words. 
In  each  case  it  is  of  importance  to  ascertain  in  what 
direction  the  image-forming  power  of  the  mind  chiefly 
lies.2 

Further,  not  only  are  there  images  of  the  eye  and  ear, 
and  of  the  other  senses,  but  there  are  also  images  of 
muscular  movements  as  of  the  tongue  and  hand.3  Some 

1 "  Every  word  heard  may  excite  a  visible  idea,  and  every 
word  seen  an  audible  one." — D.  Hartley.  "  If  a  man  with  an  acute 
faculty  of  hearing,  but  a  preference  for  thinking  by  the  agency  of 
mental  sight,  listens  to  a  lecture,  he  sits  with  his  eyes  closed,  and, 
unconsciously  perhaps,  pictures  the  words  he  hears  as  if  writing 
them.  .  .  .  Another  person  will  convert  the  impressions  he  receives 
by  sight  into  sounds.  ...  A  man  who  uses  mental  sight  in  this  way 
will  gaze  intently  when  he  forgets  anything,  or  perhaps  closes  his 
eyes  to  avoid  distraction ;  while  a  person  who  employs  mental  sound 
is  more  likely  to  put  his  finger  to  his  lips  as  though  to  enforce 
silence,  and  perhaps  incline  his  head  as  though  listening." — Dr.  M. 
Granmlle.  "  The  memory  is  aided  in  hearing,  and  after  reading,  by 
shutting  the  eyes." — Dr.  B.  Rush. 

2  "  The  man  who  remembers  by  sound  will  find  it  easier  and 
better  to  recall  a  fact,  event,  or  circumstance,  by  some  formula  which 
connects  it  by  sound,  than  by  trying  to  picture  the  subject ;  while 
the  reverse  will  be  the  case  with  the  man  who  remembers  by  sight. 
The  latter  must  fancy  he  sees  the  object,  or  recall  to  mind  some 
written  or  printed  description  of  it,  before  he  can  remember  the 
details."— Dr.  M.  Granville. 

8  "  We  remember  our  verbal  utterances  partly  as  connected  threads 
of  vocal  exertion.  ...  A  well-known  aid  to  verbal  memory  is  to 
write  with  one's  own  hand  what  has  to  be  remembered." — Prof, 
Bain. 


210  MEMOBY. 

may  not  remember  much  of  what  they  see  or  hear,  but 
remember  readily  what  they  say  or  do.  Hence  some 
children  learn  best  by  repeating  aloud,  others  by  writ- 
ing down  what  they  wish  to  remember.  Most  persons 
have  probably  observed,  in  writing  a  word  in  regard 
to  the  spelling  of  which  they  are  sometimes  in  doubt, 
that  if  they  write  it  at  once  without  thinking  about  it, 
they  usually  spell  it  correctly,  but  if  they  doubt  and 
hesitate  and  think,  they  become  uncertain,  and  most 
probably  spell  it  wrong.1  The  reason  is  that  the  mental 
image  which  directs  the  hand  is,  in  this  instance,  a 
surer  guide  than  that  furnished  by  the  intellect.  In 
such  cases,  the  more  the  mind  is  engaged  in  thought 
the  less  able  is  it  to  listen  to  those  inner  promptings 
of  our  nature — the  muschlar  images  of  past  movements, 
on  which  so  much  that  is  finest  and  most  delicate  in 
our  actions  depends.2 

1  "  We  frequently  experience  when  we  are  in  doubt  about  the 
spelling  of  a  word  that  the  greater  voluntary  exertion  we  use,  that  is, 
the  more  intently  we  think  about  it,  the 'farther  are  we  from  re- 
gaining the  lost  association  between  the  letters  of  it,  but   which 
readily  recurs  when  we  become  careless  about  it." — Dr.  E.  Darwin. 
"As  everyone  knows,  a  writer  is  less  likely  to  make  egregious  errors 
in  spelling  ...  if  he  be  so  absorbed  in  the  matter  of  what  he  is 
writing  as  to  give  no  conscious  attention  to  forms  of  words  or  con- 
struction of  sentences." — A.  S.  Hill. 

2  "  If  a  performer  has  forgotten  some  word  of  her  song,  the  more 
energy  of  mind  she  uses  about  it  the   more  distant  is  she  from 
regaining  it,  and  artfully  employs  her  mind  in  part  on  some  other 
object,  or  endeavours  to  dull  its  "perceptions  by  continuing  to  repeat, 
as  it  were  unconsciously,  the  former  part  of  the  song  that  she 
remembers  in  hopes  to  gain  the  lost  connection.     For  if  the  activity 
of  the  mind  itself  be  more  energetic,  cr  takes  its  attention  more  than 
the  connecting  word  which  is  wanted,  it  will  not  perceive  the 
Blighter  link  of  this  lost  word,  as  who  listens  to  a  feebler  sound 
must  be  very  silent  and  motionless,  so  in  this  case  the  very  vigour  of 
the  mind  itself  seems  to  prevent  it  from  regaining  the  lost  catenation." 
—Dr.  E.  Darwin.     "In  reciting,  for  instance,  a  passage  of  poetry 
from  memory,  there  is  generally  better  success  from  trusting  to  the 
mere  mechanism  of  the  faculty — to  the  unbidden  flow  of  words — 


MENTAL  IMAGES.  211 

But  not  only  are  there  in  the  mind  mental  images  of 
sensible  objects,  and  of  muscular  movements,  of  what 
we  feel  and  of  what  we  do,  but  every  thought,  however 
abstract  or  apparently  disconnected  from  sensible 
objects,  has  it  image  in  the  mind.  We  can  only  con- 
ceive an  abstraction  by  having  an  image  of  it.  The 
abstract  idea  of  a  triangle,  which  is  not  any  particular 
triangle  but  represents  the  properties  common  to  all 
triangles,  has  as  much  its  image  in  the  mind  as  any 
individual  triangle  that  may  have  been  before  it. 
Further,  we  must  regard  each  abstract  idea  as  having 
a  physical  state  corresponding  to  it ;  and  hence  we  can 
localise  abstract  ideas,  and  recall  the  occasions  when 
they  were  present. 

It  is  as  serving  to  guide  and  direct  our  various 
activities  that  mental  images  derive  their  chief 
value  and  importance.  In  anything  that  we  purpose 
or  intend  to  do,  we  must  first  of  all  have  an  idea  or 
image  of  it  in  the  mind,  and  the  more  clear  and  correct 

than  from  any  effort  to  guide  it  by  thought  or  suggestion." — Sir  H. 
Holland.  "It  is  notorious  that  in  games  of  skill  any  lengthened 
consideration  or  active  interference  on  the  part  of  the  higher 
faculties  almost  invariably  causes  a  failure.  The  direct  guidance 
that  has  been  established  between  the  constituent  sensations  and  the 
constituent  motions  must  be  allowed  free  play  ;  and  success  becomes 
sure  in  proportion  as  by  constant  co-ordination  the  combined  changes 
become  practically  one  change." — H.  Spencer.  "In  playing  by 
memory  on  a  musical  instrument,  the  muscular  sense  often 
suggests  the  sequence  of  movements  with  more  certainty  than 
the  auditory." — Dr.  Carpenter.  We  are  told  of  a  celebrated 
teacher  of  drawing  in  Paris,  who  was  very  successful  with  his  pupils, 
that  he  made  them  study  the  models  thoroughly  before  they  tried  to 
draw  them.  One  favourite  expedient  was  to  make  them  follow,  at  a 
distance,  the  outlines  of  the  figure  with  a  pencil  held  in  their  hands, 
and  then  draw  them  from  memory.  Colonel  Moncrieff  mentioned 
a  North  American  Indian  coming  to  see  him,  and  "  tracing  the  out- 
line of  a  print  from  the  Illustrated  News  very  carefully  with  the 
point  of  his  knife.  The  reason  he  gave  for  this  odd  manoeuvre  was 
that  he  would  remember  the  better  how  to  carve  it  when  he  returned 
home."— F.  Gallon. 


212  MEMORY. 

the  image,  the  more  accurately  and  efficiently  will  the 
purpose  be  carried  out.  We  cannot  exert  an  act  of 
volition  without  having  in  the  mind  an  idea  or  image 
of  what  we  will  to  effect.1  The  will  has  no  direct  power 
over  the  muscles  but  only  over  the  images  in  the  mind, 
and  it  is  in  accordance  with  these  that  the  muscles  act,2 
By  suggesting  ideas  to  the  mind  of  the  mesmerised  sub- 
ject he  may  be  made  to  do  the  most  absurd  things.  It 
is  well  known,  too,  in  the  treatment  of  the  insane  that  if 
a  patient  is  violent  from  the  presence  of  a  particular  idea 
in  the  mind,  the  introduction  of  a  new  idea  by  a  well- 
directed  question  or  otherwise  will  often  at  once  change 
the  current  of  his  thoughts,  and  so  allay  his  excitement.8 
Clearness  and  accuracy  of  image  is  only  to  be  obtained 
by  repeatedly  having  it  in  the  mind,  or  by  repeated 
action  of  the  faculty.  Each  repeated  act  of  any  of  the 

1 "  It  is  certain  that  in  order  to  execute  consciously  a  voluntary 
act  we  must  have  in  the  mind  a  conception  of  the  aim  or  purpose  of 
the  act." — Dr.  Maudsley. 

8 "  The  will  which  carries  into  action  the  determinations  of  the 
intellect  has  no  direct  power  over  the  muscles  which  execute  its 
mandates." — Dr.  Carpenter.  "  Our  power  of  willing  consists  in  the 
power  of  calling  into  existence  the  appropriate  idea.  .  .  .  The 
power  of  the  will  is  not  immediate  over  the  muscle  but  over  the  idea. 
.  .  .  Whenever  we  have  obtained  a  command  over  the  ideas,  we  have 
also  obtained  a  command  over  the  motions,"  and  "  we  cannot  perform 
associated  contractions  of  several  muscles  till  we  have  established  by 
repetition  the  ready  association  of  the  ideas  ". — James  Mill. 

3  "  The  insane  impulse  appears  to  be  not  unfrequently  the  ex- 
pression of  a  dominant  idea  .  .  .  which  operates  by  taking  full 
possession  of  the  mind,  and  by  forcing  the  body  (so  to  speak)  into 
the  movements  which  express  it.  ...  Of  all  the  features  of  insanity, 
morbid  impulses,  emotions  and  feelings,  and  the  loss  of  control  over 
them,  are  the  most  essential  and  constant." — Dr.  Carpenter.  The  late 
Prof.  Traill,  of  Edinburgh,  was  on  one  occasion  in  the  room  with  a 
madman,  who  suddenly  locked  the  door  and  threatened  to  throw 
him  out  of  the  window.  "I  can  do  better  than  that,"  said  the  Pro- 
fessor, "  I  can  go  down  to  the  street  and  jump  in  at  the  window." 
The  extravagance  of  this  boast  gave  a  new  turn  to  his  thoughts  ;  he 
opened  the  door  to  allow  the  Professor  to  go  down  to  the  street,  and 
was  at  once  secured. 


MENTAL  IMAGES.  213 

faculties  renders  the  mental  image  of  it  more  clear  and 
accurate  than  the  preceding,  and  in  proportion  to  the 
clearness  and  accuracy  of  the  image  will  the  act  itself 
be  performed  easily,  readily,  skilfully.  The  course  to 
be  pursued,  the  point  to  be  gained,  the  amount  of 
effort  to  be  put  forth,  become  more  and  more  clear  to 
the  mind.  It  is  only  from  what  we  have  done  that  we 
are  able  to  judge  of  what  we  can  do,  and  understand 
how  it  is  to  be  effected.1  When  our  ideas  or  concep- 
tions of  what  we  can  do  are  not  based  on  experience, 
they  become  fruitful  sources  of  error. 

A  clear  and  accurate  idea  of  what  we  wish  to  do,  and 
how  it  is  to  be  effected,  is  of  the  utmost  value  and  im- 
portance in  all  the  affairs  of  life.2  A  man's  conduct 
naturally  shapes  itself  according  to  the  ideas  in  his 
mind,  and  nothing  contributes  more  to  success  in  life 
than  having  a  high  ideal  and  'keeping  it  constantly  in 
view.3  Where  such  is  the  case  one  can  hardly  fail  in 
attaining  it.  Numerous  unexpected  circumstances  will 
be  found  to  conspire  to  bring  it  about,  and  even  what 

1  "  We  cannot  do  an  act  voluntarily  unless  we  know  what  we  arc 
going  to  do,  and  we  cannot  know  exactly  what  we  are  going  to  do 
until  we  have  taught  ourselves  to  do  it." — Dr.  Maudsley. 

2  "  By  aiming  at  a  new  construction,  we  must  clearly  conceive 
what    is   aimed    at.  ...  Where    we    have  a   very  distinct    and 
intelligible  model  before  us  we  are  in  a  fair  way  to  succeed  ;  in 
proportion  as  the  ideal  is  dim  and  wavering  we  stagger  and  miscarry." 
— Prof.  Bain. 

8  "  The  continued  concentration  of  attention  upon  a  certain  idea 
gives  it  a  dominant  power,  not  only  over  the  mind  but  over  the 
body." — Dr.  Carpenter.  "  The  idea  of  our  own  strength  gives  strength 
to  our  movements.  A  person  who  is  confident  of  effecting  anything 
by  muscular  efforts  will  do  it  more  easily  than  one  not  so  confident 
in  his  own  power."— Dr.  /.  Milller.  "  The  entire  man  in  his  body 
and  soul,  his  actions  and  moral  feelings,  is  governed  by  what  he 
believes."— Anon.  "To  believe  firmly  is  almost  tantamount  in  the 
end  to  accomplishment.  Extraordinary  instances  are  related  showing 
the  influence  of  the  will  over  even  the  involuntary  musclea." — Dr. 
Tanner. 

16 


214  MEMOBY. 

Beemed  at  first  to  be  hostile  may  be  converted  into 
means  for  its  furtherance;  while  by  having  it  constantly 
before  the  mind  he  will  be  ever  ready  to  take  advantage 
of  any  favouring  circumstances  that  may  present  them- 
selves.1 "  A  passionate  desire  and  an  unwearied  will 
can  perform  impossibilities,  or  what  seem  to  be  such, 
to  the  cold  and  feeble." — Sir  J.  T.  Simpson.  "  Dream, 
0  youth,  dream  manfully  and  nobly,  and  thy  dreams 
shall  be  prophets." — Lord  Lytton.2 

But  in  order  properly  to  understand  the  importance 
of  these  images,  and  to  perceive  the  power  and  extent 
of  their  influence,  it  is  necessary  to  keep  in  view  that 
much  that  exists  in  the  mind,  and  exerts  an  influence 
in  it,  does  so  unconsciously,  as  will  be  shown  at  greater 
length  in  the  next  chapter.  While  a  mental  image 
must  first  have  been  consciously  in  the  mind  before  we 
could  afterwards  recognise  it  as  having  been  there  at 
all,  yet  after  a  time,  or  after  many  returns,  it  may  be  in 
the  mind,  and  exert  an  active  influence  there  without 
our  being  conscious  of  its  presence.3  Time  is  a  neces- 
sary element  in  consciousness,  and  an  idea  or  image 

1  "  It  is  wonderful  how  even  the  casualties  of  life  seem  to  bow  to 
a  spirit  that  will  not  bow  to  them,  and  yield  to  subserve  a  design 
which   they   may,  in  their    first    apparent  tendency,  threaten    to 
frustrate.  .  .  .  When  a  firm  decisive  spirit  is  recognised  it  is  curious 
to  see  how  the  space  clears  around  a  man  and  leaves  him  room  and 
freedom." — John  Foster. 

2  "Thus  it  is  that  aspirations  are  often  prophecies,  the  harbingers 
of  what  a  man  shall  be  in  a  condition  to  perform." — Dr.  Maudsley. 
It  is  related  of  Warren  Hastings  that  when  only  seven  years  old 
**  there  rose  on  his  mind  a  scheme  which  through  all  the  turns  of  hia 
eventful  life  was  never  abandoned.     He  would  recover  the  estate 
which  belonged  to  his  father — he  would  be  Hastings  of  Dalyesford." 
T.  B.  Macaulay. 

8  "  An  idea  sometimes  arises  and  produces  a  movement  without 
there  having  been  any  active  consciousness  of  it,  the  effect  being  that 
which  first  arouses  consciousness  if  it  be  aroused  at  alL — £hr.  H 
Maudsley. 


MENTAL  IMAGES.  215 

must  be  ft  certain  time  before  the  .mind  in  order  to  its 
being  consciously  apprehended.  But  the  more  fre- 
quently ideas  recur,  and  the  more  familiar  they  become, 
the  less  time  do  they  occupy,  and  the  less  impression 
do  they  make, — coming  and  going,  frequently,  without 
ourheingat  all  aware  of  it.  We  only  know  of  their  presence 
from  the  effects  they  produce,  or  the  results  that  follow 
from  them.  In  learning  to  play  on  the  piano,  for 
instance,  one  is  at  first  fully  conscious  of  every  note  as 
he  goes  over  it ;  but  after  a  lengthened  practice  he  may 
be  able  to  play  the  most  difficult  pieces  without  giving 
any  attention  to  them,  carrying  on,  perhaps,  an  animated 
conversation  on  an  entirely  different  subject  at  the  same 
time.  There  is  every  reason  to  believe  that  mental 
images  were  present  in  the  latter  case  as  in  the  former, 
guiding  and  directing  every  step  of  it,  but  their  passage 
through  the  mind  was  too  rapid  for  them  to  be  taken 
notice  of.  Sometimes  an  unconscious  idea  will  prevail 
over  a  conscious  one,  and  one  may  purpose  or  intend 
to  do  a  certain  thing,  or  to  follow  out  a  certain  line  of 
conduct,  but  other  influences,  the  result  of  previous 
actions,  may  prevail,  and  what  he  would  he  does  not, 
and  what  he  would  not  that  he  does.1  In  the  same 
way  a  man  may  wish  to  give  expression  to  certain 
thoughts  in  his  mind  and  yet,  from  the  presence  of 
different  or  perverted  images,  he  may  say  or  write 
something  different  or  even  contrary  to  what  he  intended. 

1  **  In  certain  individuals  and  in  a  certain  state  of  mental  concen- 
tration the  expectation  of  a  result  is  sufficient  to  determine,  without 
any  voluntary  effort  and  even  in  opposition  to  the  will,  the  muscular 
movements  by  which  it  is  produced." — Dr.  Carpenter.  "  Everyone's 
experience  will  recall  to  him  occasions  on  which  an  idea  excited  in 
his  mind  could  not  be  dismissed  therefrom  by  the  wilJ,  and  perhapa 
would  not  let  him  rest  until  he  had  realised  it  in  action,  even  though 
euch  realisation  appeared  to  his  judgment  inadvisable," — Dr.  Ht 
Maudsley. 


216  MBMOBT. 

Perhaps  something  like  the  following  may  have  at  some 
time  or  other  occurred  to  most  of  our  readers : — He 
wishes  to  write  a  letter,  has  paper  and  pens  before  him, 
but  wants  ink.  He  knows  he  wants  something,  and 
paper  being  before  him  puts  the  idea  of  paper  into  his 
mind,  and  he  says,  "Bring  me  some  paper"  instead  of 
ink.  We  believe  that  telegraph-offices  are  not  without 
instances  of  clerks  sending  messages  very  different  from, 
if  not  directly  contrary  to,  what  was  before  them.  The 
message  probably  suggested  to  the  mind  ideas  of  the 
contrary,  and  the  latter  were  accordingly  sent.1 

If  we  bear  in  mind  that  every  sensation  or  idea  must 
form  an  image  in  the  mind  before  it  can  be  perceived 
or  understood,  and  that  every  act  of  volition  is  preceded 
by  its  image,  it  will  be  seen  that  images  play  a  very 
important  part  in  all  our  mental  operations.  According 
to  the  nature  of  the  ideas  or  images  which  he  entertains 
will  be  the  character  and  conduct  of  the  man.  The 
man  tenacious  of  purpose  is  the  man  who  holds  tena- 
ciously certain  ideas  ;  the  flighty  man  is  he  who  cannot 
keep  one  idea  before  him  for  any  length  of  time,  but 

1  "  Ideas  which  have  passed  out  of  the  conscious  memory  some- 
times express  themselves  in  involuntary  muscular  movements  to  the 
great  surprise  of  the  individual  executing  them." — Dr.  Carpenter.  In 
certain  forms  of  mental  insanity  "  we  find  a  sort  of  duplication  of 
the  mental  unity.  The  individual  thus  divided  into  two  parts — one 
portion  of  himself  remaining  healthy  while  the  other  is  at  the  mercy 
of  the  phenomena  of  automatic  involuntary  impulse — looks  on  as  a 
conscious  spectator  at  certain  extravagant  acts  that  he  is  forced  tc 
commit,  at  certain  senseless  words  that  he  utters.  .  .  .  There 
are  patients  sometimes  who  write  and  describe  their  distresses— the 
involuntary  agonies  through  which  they  pass,  the  words  they  have 
pronounced  unwittingly,  how  they  are  impelled  to  speak  in  spite  of 
themselves,  to  say  what  they  would  not  have  wished  to  say,  to  go 
through  ridiculous  gesticulations,  and  to  commit  extravagances  they 
believe  themselves  incapable  of  restraining." — J.  Luys.  "When 
anyone  is  thinking  intensely  about  one  thing  and  carelessly  con- 
versing xabout  another,  he  is  liable  to  use  the  word  of  a  contrary 
meaning  to  that  which  he  designed,  as  cold  weather  for  hot  weather, 
summer  for  winter." — Dr.  E.  Darwin. 


MENTAL  IMAGES.  217 

constantly  flits  from  one  to  another ;  the  insane  man 
is  he  who  entertains  insane  ideas  often,  it  may  be,  on 
only  one  or  two  subjects. 

We  may  distinguish  two  great  classes  of  individuals 
according  to  the  prevailing  character  of  their  images. 
They  are  those  in  whose  mind  sensory  images  predomi- 
nate, and  those  whose  images  are  chiefly  such  as  tend 
to  action.  Those  of  the  former  class  are  observant, 
often  thoughtful,  men  of  judgment,  and,  it  may  be,  of 
learning ;  but  if  they  have  not  also  the  active  faculty  in 
due  force,  they  will  fail  in  giving  forth  or  in  turning 
to  proper  account  their  knowledge  or  learning,  and 
instances  of  this  are  by  no  means  uncommon.  The 
man,  on  the  other  hand,  who  has  ever  in  his  mind 
images  of  things  to  be  done,  is  the  man  of  action  and 
enterprise.  If  he  is  not  also  an  observant  and  thought- 
ful man,  if  his  mind  is  backward  in  forming  images  of 
what  is  presented  to  it  from  without,  he  will  be  con- 
stantly liable  to  make  mistakes.  We  sometimes  meet 
with  persons  whose  minds  are  so  taken  up  with  some- 
thing or  other  to  be  done,  that  they  pay  little  heed  to 
any  impressions  they  may  receive  from  things  around 
them.  They  are  careless  and  unobservant  of  these 
things.  There  are  persons  whose  minds  are  so  filled 
wiih  what  they  themselves  have  to  say,  that  they  can 
scarcely  give  a  moment's  thought  or  attention  to  what 
anyone  else  may  have  to  say  in  return.1 
'  Many  of  the  peculiarities  that  are  to  be  met  with  in 
abnormal  conditions  of  the  mind  are,  in  our  opinion,  to 
be  attributed  to  defects  in  the  power  of  image-formation, 
or  to  the  loss  of  it  in  certain  directions.  /The  presence 

1  "  To  some  men  and  women  the  incessant  exercise  of  speech  seema 
to  be  no  less  necessary  than  the  function  of  respiration  ;  and  to  such 
persons,  while  indulging  this  uncontrollable  propensity,  the  enter- 
tainment of  their  hearers  is  not  at  all  an  object." — D.  Stewart. 


218  MEMORY. 

of  a  mental  image  being  necessary  to  an  act  of  volition, 
if  the  mental  image  is  lost  or  cannot  be  recalled,  the 
voluntary  action  will  fail  to  be  performed.  This  would 
seem  to  be  what  really  takes  place  in  certain  kinds  of 
paralysis  (Locomotor  Ataxia),  in  which  the  motor  power 
is  intact,  while  the  sense  of  feeling  is  lost,  and  with  it 
the  power  of  motion,  unless  sight  or  touch  comes  to  form 
an  image  of  the  parts  in  the  mind.1  It  is  a  well-known 
fact  that  a  patient  of  this  kind  who  has  lost  the  use  of 
his  legs  may  yet  be  able  to  walk  if  he  keep  his  eyes  fixed 
upon  them,  and  so  convey  an  image  of  them  to  the 
mind ;  and  in  like  manner  a  mother  who  has  lost  the 
use  of  her  arms  is  able  to  hold  her  child  as  long  and  no 
longer  than  her  eyes  are  centred  on  them.2  It  is 

1  fc  In  hemiphlegia,  the  patient  may  will  to  move  to  the  utmost, 
yet  no  motion  follows." — Dr.  Laycock.     "  When  sensation  is  lost,  so 
is  motor  power;    when  sensation  is  restored,  motor  power  returns 
along  with  it.    The  want  of  sensibility  and  the  want  of  motor  power 
not  only  come  and  go  together,  but  they  are  confined  to  the  same 
part  of  tiie  body,  thus  apparently  showing  that  they  are  inseparably 
interlinked." — Dr.  J.  Cunningham.     "  As  soon  as  the  patients  take 
their  eyes  off  their  limbs,  they  have  no  more  consciousness  of  their 
position  or  even  of  their  existence.     When  in  bed  they  lose  them  as 
it  were,  and  are  obliged  to  look  for  them,  not  knowing  where  they 
are.     Sometimes  they  try  to  stretch  out  or  bend  some  limb  already 
stretched  out  or  bent.     On  moving,  they  are  ignorant  of  the  extent 
of  their  movement,  and  frequently  do  not  know  whether  they  have 
moved  or  not.     If  they  intend  to  move,  but  are  prevented,  they  are 
unaware  of  it,  and  think  they  have  moved  from  having  willed  to  do 
so."— H.  Taine. 

2  "  A  woman  who  had  suffered  complete  loss  of  sensation  in  one 
arm,  but  who  retained  its  motor  power,  found  that  she  could  net 
support  her  infant  upon  it  without  constantly  looking  at  the  child  ; 
and  that  if  she  were  to  remove  her  eyes  for  a  moment,  the  child 
would  fall,  in  spite  of  her  knowledge  that  her  infant  was  resting 
upon  her  arm,  and  of  her  desire  to  sustain  it.     Here  the  muscular 
sense  being  entirely  deficient,  the  sense  of  vision  supplied  what  was 
required  so  long  as  it  was  exercised  upon  the  object ;  but  as  soon  as 
this  guiding  influence  was  withdrawn,  the  strongest  will  could  not 
sustain  the  muscular  contraction." — Dr.   Carpenter.     "Sir  Astley 
(Cooper)  cited  to  me  the  case  of  a  man  completely  deprived  of  the 


MENTAL  IMAGES.  219 

evident  that  the  eye  can  do  nothing  towards  communi- 
cating sensibility  to  the  part  affected.  It  can  only 
supply  the  mind  with  an  image  of  the  affected  limb, 
and  of  the  movements  it  is  desired  to  effect ;  which 
would  go  to  prove  that  it  is  the  mental  image,  and  not 
merely  muscular  sensibility,  that  directed  the  movement, 
— that  in  the  normal  state,  it  is  the  mental  image  derived 
from  muscular  sensibility  that  guides  the  movements.1 

In  Aphasia,  or  loss  or  impairment  of  the  faculty  of 
speech,  there  is  no  paralysis  of  the  organs  of  the  voice. 
It  is  owing  to  a  mental  defect  arising,  we  believe,  from 
inability  to  form  in  the  mind  the  motor  images  neces- 
sary to  speech.  There  is  no  impairment  of  power  or 
control  over  the  muscles  of  the  voice ;  they  may  even 
be  able  to  repeat  the  words  spoken  by  another,  but 
they  are  unable  of  themselves  to  recall  the  ideas  or 
images  that  are  necessary  to  vocal  expression.  "  If," 
says  M.  Eibot,  "  we  adopt  the  theory  that  the  amnesia 
of  signs  (aphasia)  is  a  disease  of  the  motor  memory,  we 
discover  at  once  its  distinguishing  characteristic,  and 
are  able  to  study  the  subject  from  a  new  point  of 
view."2  In  what  is  known  as  "hysterical  paralysis," 

faculty  of  sensation  in  one  arm  and  hand,  the  muscular  power  ot 
which  was,  however,  preserved.  When  this  man  was  desired  to 
take  hold  of  and  to  lift  anything,  he  did  so  quite  well ;  but  if,  whilst 
holding  the  object,  his  attention  was  taken  away  from  the  hand, 
irregular  contractions  of  the  limb  commenced,  and  very  soon  the 
object  fell  to  the  ground  ;  as  soon  as  the  patient  ceased  to  follow  the 
contractions  of  his  fingers  with  his  eyes,  nothing  remained  to  inforn 
him  that  he  held  the  object  when,  of  course,  it  escaped  from  hi 
grasp." — Dr.  Solly. 

1  "  The  difference  between  an  involuntary  movement  of  the  le<j 
and  a  voluntary  one  is  that  whereas  the  involuntary  one  takes  place 
without  any  previous  consciousness  of  the  movements  to  be  made, 
the  voluntary  one  takes  place  only  after  it  has  been  represented  in 
consciousness." — H.  Spencer. 

2  Movements  "which  are  employed  in  articulate  speech,  writing, 
drawing,  music,  gestures,  can  only  be  conserved  and  reproduced  on 


220  MEMOBY. 

there  is  no  imperfection  of  muscle  or  nerve,  but  simply 
absence  of  all  desire  to  will — absence  of  the  images 
necessary  to  voluntary  action.1  The  like  holds  true 
with  regard  to  what  is  called  "psychical  blindness," 
where  there  is  no  imperfection  of  the  organs  of  vision, 
but  simply  the  inability  to  form  an  intelligible  image  of 
the  visual  impression  received.2 

Loss  of  memory,  again,  which  is  a  frequent  atten- 
dant of  paralysis,  is  also  to  be  attributed  to  in- 
ability to  form  or  recall  mental  images ;  and  the 
remarkable  thing  here  is,  that  it  will  affect  certain 
classes  of  images  and  not  others,  thus  going  to  prove 
what  has  already  been  pointed  out,  that  different  kinds 
of  memory  have  different  seats.8  Thus  a  man  forgets 

the  condition  that  there  are  motor  residua.  It  is  clear  that  if  nothing 
remained  of  a  word  uttered  or  written  for  the  first  time  it  would  be 
impossible  to  learn  to  speak  or  write.  ,  .  .  We  are  able  to  speak 
with  facility  our  own  or  a  foreign  tongue  where  these  (vocal)  move- 
ments are  easily  reproduced — that  is  to  say,  when  the  motor  residua 
are  organised." — Th.  Eibot. 

1  In  hysterical  paralysis  "  there  is  no  imperfection  of  muscle, 
nerve,  or  kinetic  substrata,  but  simply  an  absence  of  all  desire  to 
will  ...  An  organism  may  conceivably  desire  to  be  happy  but 
may  not  desire  to  act  to  attain  the  desirable  state  ". — Dr.  Laycock. 
"  The  want  not  really  of  power  to  move  but  of  a  belief  in  the  posses- 
sion of  that  power  is  the   characteristic  of  the  peculiar  form  of 
paralysis  which  is  commonly  designated  as  *  hysterical ';  and  the 
most  efficacious  treatment  of  this  remarkable  disorder  is  to  work  the 
patient  up  to  the  conviction  that  the  ability  has  been  or  will  be 
restored.  .  .  .  And  such  is  the  manner  in  which  similar  marvels  have 
been  brought  about  by  any  modus  operandi  whatever  which  begets 
in  the  mind  of  the  *  subject1  a  confidence  that  the  thing  hitherto 
deemed  impossible  can  be  accomplished,  and  concentrates  all  the 
mental  and  physical  powers  on   the  effort  to  perform  it." — Dr. 
Carpenter. 

2  "  Muntz  has  put  forth  the  important  distinction  that  there  may  be 
blindness  in  the  sense  of  total  deprivation  of  vision  and  *  psychical 
blindness/  or  the  inability  to  form  an  intelligent  comprehension  of 
the  visual  impressions  received." — Prof.  M'Kendrick. 

1 "  A  stroke  of  the  palsy  has  been  known  (while  it  did  not  destroy 
the  power  of  speech)  to  render  the  patient  incapable  of  recollecting 


MENTAL   IMAGES.  221 

the  words  with  which  to  express  his  ideas,  though  he 
knows  very  well  what  he  wishes  to  say,  and  knows 
when  it  is  said  by  another.  He  may  know  very  well 
what  is  said  to  him,  but  be  unable  to  put  in  words  what 
be  wishes  to  say  ;  or  he  may  fail  to  understand  what  is 
said  to  him  orally,  but  be  able  to  follow  it  at  once  when 
written  or  printed  ;  or,  conversely,  the  written  word  may 
not"belmaerstood,  while  he  readily  comprehends  what 
is  spoken.  Some  know  a  thing  when  they  hear  it 
named,  but  are  unable  to  name  it,  or  they  can  give  all 
the  letters  of  a  word,  and  yet  be  unable  to  pronounce 
it.  One  could  write  distinctly  to  dictation  but  could 
not  read  a  moment  afterwards  what  he  had  written. 
Some  can  name  objects  when  they  are  set  before  them, 
but  are  unable  to  do  so  when  they  are  withdrawn.  The 
memory  for  names  may  be  lost,  while  the  memory  for 
things  remain  ;  and  one  may  know  his  friends  perfectly 
and  yet  be  unable  to  name  them,1  These  and  similar 

the  names  of  the  most  familiar  objects.  What  is  still  more  remark- 
able, the  name  of  an  object  has  been  known  to  suggest  the  idea  of 
it  as  formerly,  although  the  sight  of  the  object  ceased  to  suggest  the 
name." — D.  Stewart.  "  There  are  individuals  who  having  suffered 
from  disease  of  the  brain  are  unable  to  express  their  thoughts  by 
speech  although,  their  faculties  being  little  or  not  at  all  impaired 
otherwise,  they  have  a  perfect  comprehension  of  what  others  say  and 
of  what  they  wish  to  say  themselves." — Sir  B.  Brodie.  "  The  loss  of 
the  memory  of  words  ...  is  a  special  disorder  which  not  unfre- 
quently  presents  itself— the  patient  understanding  perfectly  well 
what  is  said,  but  being  unable  to  reply  in  any  other  terms  than  yes 
or  no  or  by  affirmative  or  negative  gestures  ;  not  from  any  paralysis 
of  the  muscles  of  articulation,  but  from  incapability  of  expressing 
the  ideas  in  language." — Dr.  Carpenter. 

1  "The  memory  of  only  a  particular  class  of  words  such  as  nouns 
or  verbs  may  be  lost ;  or  the  patient  may  remember  the  letters  of 
which  a  word  is  composed,  and  may  be  able  to  spell  his  wants  though 
he  cannot  speak  the  word  itself, — asking  for  bread,  for  example,  by 
the  separate  letters  b,  r,  e,  a,  d.  A  very  curious  affection  of  the 
memory  is  that  in  which  the  sound  of  spoken  words  does  not  convey 
any  idea  to  the  mind,  yet  the  individual  may  recognise  in  a  written  or 


222  MEMORY. 

phenomena  become  intelligible  when  we  connect  them 
with  the  disappearance  from  the  mind  of  certain  classes 
of  images — visual,  auditory,  or  vocaly^ 

Sometimes  words  or  aames  are  used  wrongly,  but 
always  in  the  same  sense,  as  if  the  images  had  got  out 
of  their  proper  places.  Thus  Mr.  A.  may  always  be 
called  Mr.  B.,  and  Mr.  B.,  Mr.  A. ;  paper  may  be  called 
coals  and  coals  paper.1  Sir  B.  Brodie  gives  the  case  of 
a  gentleman  who,  having  had  a  stroke  of  apoplexy,  "  lost 
the  power  not  only  of  expressing  himself  in  intelligible 
language,  but  also  of  comprehending  what  was  said 
to  him  by  others.  He  spoke  what  might  be  called 
gibberish,  and  it  seemed  to  him  that  his  friends  spoke 
gibberish  in  return.  But  while  his  memory  as  to  oral 
language  was  thus  affected,  as  to  written  language  it 
was  not  affected  at  all.  If  a  letter  was  read  to  him  it 
conveyed  no  ideas  to  his  mind,  but  when  he  had  it  in 
his  own  hand  and  read  it  himself  he  understood  it  per- 
fectly. "  In  this  case  we  may  be  said  to  have  an  instance 
of  double  dislocation,  two  classes  of  images  having  got 
displaced.  The  sounds  he  heard  no  longer  gave  rise 
to  their  proper  images  in  his  mind — those,  namely,  with 
which  they  were  formerly  associated — but  to  others  of 
a  different  kind,  which  conveyed  no  intelligible  meaning 
to  him.  In  addition  to  this,  the  images  of  his  vocal 

printed  list  of  words  those  which  have  heen  uttered  by  the  speaker, 
the  sight  of  them  enabling  him  to  understand  their  meaning.  Con- 
versely, the  sound  of  the  word  may  be  remembered  and  the  idea  it 
conveys  fully  appreciated,  but  the  visual  memory  of  its  written  form 
may  be  altogether  lost,  although  the  component  letters  may  be  re- 
cognised."— Dr.  Carpenter. 

1  "  Occasionally  patients  have  forgotten  the  signification  of  words 
and  designated  the  thing  by  a  term  which  has  not  the  least  con- 
nection with  it.  Generally  speaking,  the  patients  are  quite  aware 
that  they  are  using  a  wrong  word,  for  often  if  we  suggest  the  term 
intended  they  immediately  recognise  it  and  rejoice  at  having  re- 
covered it." — Prof,  van  der  Kolk. 


MENTAL  IMAGES.  223 

utterances  had  been  displaced,  and  when  he  gave  ex- 
pression to  those  that  were  in  his  mind,  they  were 
destitute  of  meaning  to  others. 

It  is  with  these  mental  images,  then,  that  the  memory 
has  more  particularly  and  directly  to  do.  It  is  these 
that  it  treasures  up  and  recalls,  and  it  is  upon  the  nature 
and  character  of  the  image  which  is  formed  in  the  mind 
that  the  power  of  the  memory  to  reproduce  it  depends. 
^Whein  the  image  is  clear,  distinct,  and  vivid,  it  is  readily 
reproduced  with  much  of  its  original  character  and 
force;  but  when,  oa-the  other  hand,  it  is  indistinct, 
hazy,  ill-formed,  it  will  be  recalled,  with  difficulty,  and 
only  in  a  very  imperfect  manney.-/  The  image  which  is 
recalled  may  be  of  any  degree  of  clearness  and  complete- 
ness, from  the  most  distinct  and  perfect,  scarcely  to  be 
distinguished  from  the  original  impression,  to  the  most 
indistinct  and  fragmentary,  bearing  but  little  resem- 
blance to  the  original.  When  the  image  has  disap- 
peared and  cannot  be  recalled  the  memory  of  it  is 
gone.  j^The  defects  of  memory  of  which  most  persons 
complain  are  usually  to  be  attributed  to  imperfectly 
formed  and  indistinct  images.  If  sufficient  time  and 
attention  are  not  bestowed  upon  the  original  impression, 
the  image  that  is  formed  of  it  in  the  mind  and  stored 
up  in  the  memory  will  be  indistinct  and  imperfect,  and 
correspondingly  difficult  of  recall.  'The  great  means, 
then,  for  strengthening  and  improving  the  memory  are 
such  as  tend  to  the  formation  of  clear  and  distinct 
images  in  the  mind^^^X 

We  are  usually  told  that  all  memory  is  association, 
and  that  if  we  wish  to  fix  a  thing  in-  the  memory  we 
must  associate  it  with  something  that  is  in  the  mind 
already.  It  is  upon  this  principle  that  all  systems  of 
mnemonics  are  constructed,  Association,  as  we  shall 


224  MEMORY. 

see,  has  its  place  and  work  in  regard  to  memory,  but  it 
is  not  upon  it  that  the  memory  itself  mainly  rests. 
Association  is  merely  the  means  by  which  what  is  in 
the  memory  is  recalled  and  brought  again  before  con- 
sciousness. But  the  subject-matter  of  memory,  that 
which  is  treasured  up  and  recalled,  is  the  image  which 
has  been  formed  in  the  mind  ;  and"ilnless  this  is  clear 
and  accurate,  that  which  is  recalled  will  in  like  manner 
be  defective.  In  order,  then,  to  a  good  memory — one 
that  will  bring  the  past  clearly  and  accurately  before  us 
— we  must  attend  to  the  formation  of  the  images  in  the 
mind,  and  see  that  they  clearly  and  accurately  represent 
the  original  sensations  or  ideas.  In  other  words,  in 
order  to  remember  well  we  must  observe  well  and  with 
attention. 

A  main  point  in  all  education  should  be  the  formation 
of  clear  and  distinct  images  in  the  mind.  '.We  cannot 
think  clearly,  or  express  ourselves  clearly,  unless  we 
have^ clear  iiu^.^3  in*  the  mind.  It  is  not  necessary  to 
understand  a  thing  in  order  to  form  a  clear  image  of  it. 
In  fact  sometimes  things  not  understood  are  most 
clearly  imaged  in  the  mind.  Our  earliest,  clearest, 
and  most  lasting  images  are  those  that  come  to  us 
through  the  senses;  and  hence  the  training  of  the 
senses  to  form  clear  and  accurate  images  of  things  is 
principally  to  be  considered  in  the  improvement  of  the 
memory.  The  .great  advantage  of  object-lessons  to 
children  springs  from  this,  that  they  present  to  the 
mind  sensible  images  of  the  instruction  which  is  com- 
municated^ Hence,  too,  the  advantage  of  pictures, 
plans,  and  maps  in  imparting  clear  ideas,  and  in  fixing 
them  in  the  memory,.  In  the  case  of  any  subject 
capable  of  illustration  a  visible  representation  of  it  wiU 
greatly  help  the  mind  in  imaging  and  in  remembering 


MENTAL  IMAGES.  225 

it.1  It  is  to  be  regretted  that  bits  of  science,  bits  of 
natural  history,  bits  of  mechanics,  which  can  take  but 
little  hold  on  the  imagination  of  a  child,  should  occupy 
so  large  a  space  in  our  elementary  school  books  in  place 
of  fables,  fairy  tales,  stories  of  daring,  and  romance, 
which  call  out  the  imagination  of  the  child  and  make  a 
lasting  impression  on  the  memory.2  Speaking  of  the 
visualising  faculty,  Mr.  F.  Galton  says  :  "  Our  bookish 
and  wordy  education  tends  to  repress  this  valuable  gift 
of  nature.  A  faculty  that  is  of  importance  in  all  tech- 
nical and  artistic  occupations,  that  gives  accuracy  to 
our  perceptions  and  justness  to  our  generalisations,  is 
starved  by  lazy  disuse,  instead  of  being  cultivated 
judiciously  in  such  a  way  as  will  on  the  whole  bring 
the  best  return.  >  I  believe  that  a  serious  study  of  the 
best  method  of  developing  and  utilising  this  faculty 
without  prejudice  to  the  practice  of  abstract  thought  in 

1  "  A  few  dots  like  those  used  by  the  bushmen  give  great  assist- 
ance in  creating  an  imaginary  picture,  as  proved  by  our  general  habit 
of  working  out  ideas  by  the  help  of  marks  and  rude  lines." — F. 
Galton. 

2  "  The  modern  practice  of  occupying  the  minds  of  children  with 
the  reasons  of  things,  i.e.9  with  laws,  principles,  &c.,  in  the  form  of 
compends  of  astronomy,  natural  or  mental    philosophy,  natural 
theology,  &c.,  is  one  that  cannot  be  too  earnestly  deprecated." — N. 
Porter.     "  It  is  probable  that  fables,  parables,  similes,  allegory,  &c., 
please,  strike,  and  instruct,  chiefly  on  account  of  the  visible  imagery 
which  they  raise  up  in  the  fancy.    They  are  also  the  more  easily 
remembered  on  the  same  account" — Dr.  Hartley.    "  Of  all  people 
children  are  the  most  imaginative.    Every  image  which  is  strongly 
presented  to  their  mental  eye  produces  on  them  the  effect  of  reality." 
— Lord  Macaulay.     "  I  have  often  maintained  that  fiction  may  be 
much  more  instructive  than  real  history." — John  Foster.    "The  world 
may  rely  upon  it  that  catechisms,  whether  Pinnock's  or  the  Church 
of  England,  will  be  found  a  poor  substitute  for  those  old  romances, 
whether  of  chivalry  or  of  faery,  which,  if  they  did  not  give  a  true 
picture  of  actual  life,  did  not  give  a  false  one,  since  they  did  not 
profess  to  give  any,  but  (what  was  much  better)  filled  the  youthful 
imagination  with  pictures  of  heroic  men,  and  of  what  are  at  least  aa 
much  wanted,  heroic  women." — J.  S.  Mill. 


226  MEMOBY. 

symbols  is  one  of  the  many  pressing  desiderata  in  the 
yet  unformed  science  of  education."1  But  the  faculty 
of  forming  mental  images  is  not  confined  to  the  eye. 
It  extends  to  all  of  the  other  senses,  to  all  our  volun- 
tary movements,  and  to  every  subject  of  thought ;  and 
therefore  the  importance  of  cultivating  it  in  all  these 
directions  is  so  much  the  greater. 

The  natural  course  of  our  knowledge  is  from  the 
general  to  the  particular.  Our  first  impression  of  an 
object  is  a  general  one,  but  as  we  contemplate  it  we 
pass  in  review  its  several  parts  successively  before  the 
mind  and  thus  obtain  a  clear  idea  of  the  whole.  In 
gazing  on  a  landscape,  for  instance,  we  first  of  all  get  a 
general  impression  of  it,  but  this  will  be  very  crude 
and  imperfect  unless  we  come  down  to  particulars  and 
concentrate  the  attention  successively  upon  its  different 
parts.2 

In  order  to  form  a  clear  and  distinct  image  of  an  ob- 
ject in  the  mind,  it  is  usually  necessary  to  analyse  it 
and  to  concentrate  the  attention  upon  its  different  parts 
one  by  one.  (See  "  Attention,"  Chapter  VII.) 

1 "  There  can  be  no  doubt  as  to  the  utility  of  the  visualising  faculty 
where  it  is  duly  subordinated  to  the  higher  intellectual  operations. 
A  visual  image  is  the  most  perfect  form  of  mental  representation 
wherever  the  shape,  position,  and  relations  of  objects  in  space  are 
concerned.  It  is  of  importance  in  every  handicraft  and  profession 
where  design  is  required.  The  best  workmen  are  those  who  visualise 
the  whole  of  what  they  Dropose  to  do  before  they  take  a  tool  in  their 
hands."— F.  Galton. 

2  "When  we  wish  to  make  ourselves  thoroughly  acquainted  with 
a  landscape  or  a  picture,  we  intentionally  direct  the  axes  of  our 
eyes  to  each  particular  part  of  it  successively,  and  study  that  part  in 
its  details,  until  we  have  formed  a  composite  conception  of  the 
whole." — Dr.  CarpenUr, 


CHAPTEB  VL 

MIND,  CONSCIOUS  AND   UNCONSCIOUS. 

"  The  teaching  of  most  modern  psychologists  is  that  consciousness  forms  but  a 
small  item  in  the  total  of  psychical  processes.  Unconscious  sensations,  ideas,  and 
judgments  are  made  to  play  a  great  part  in  their  explanations.  It  is  very  certain 
that  in  every  conscious  volition— every  act  that  is  so  characterised— the  larger  part 
of  it  is  quite  unconscious.  It  is  equally  certain  that  in  every  perception  there  are 
unconscious  processes  of  reproduction  and  inference,— there  is  ...  a  middle  dis- 
tance of  sub-consciousness,  and  a  '  background '  of  unconsciousness." — 0.  H.  Lewes. 

"  I  do  not  hesitate  to  affirm  that  what  we  are  conscious  of  is  constructed  out  of 
what  we  are  not  conscious  of— that  our  whole  knowledge  in  fact  is  made  up  of  the 
unknown  and  the  incognisable."  The  sphere  of  our  consciousness  is  "  only  a  small 
circle  in  the  centre  of  a  far  wider  sphere  of  action  and  passion,  of  which  we  are  only 
conscious  through  its  effects  ".—Sir  W.  Hamilton. 

"  Mental  events  imperceptible  to  consciousness  .  .  .  are  far  more  numerous 
than  the  others,  and  of  the  world  which  makes  up  our  being  we  only  perceive  the 
highest  points— the  lighted  up  peaks  of  a  continent  whose  lower  levels  remain  in  the 
shade.  Beneath  ordinary  sensations  are  their  components,  that  is  to  say,  the 
elementary  sensations,  which  must  be  combined  into  groups  to  reach  our  conscious- 
ness. .  .  .  Outside  a  little  luminous  circle  lies  a  large  ring  of  twilight,  and  beyond 
this  an  indefinite  night ;  but  the  events  of  this  twilight  and  this  night  are  as  real 
as  those  within  the  luminous  circle."— H.  Taine. 

"  Examine  closely,  and  without  bias,  the  ordinary  mental  operations  of  daily- 
life,  and  you  will  surely  discover  that  consciousness  has  not  one  tenth  part  of  the 
function  therein  which  it  is  commonly  assumed  to  have.  ...  In  every  conscious 
state  there  are  at  work  conscious,  sub-conscious,  and  infra-conscious  energies,  the 
last  as  indispensable  as  the  first."-— Dr.  Maudsley. 

"  Memory  is  a  faculty  not  only  of  our  conscious  states,  but  also,  and  much  more 
so,  of  our  unconscious  ones."— Dr.  E.  Bering. 

IT  is  impossible  to  understand  the  true  nature  of 
memory,  or  how  to  train  it  aright,  unless  we 
have  a  clear  conception  of  the  fact  that  there  is 
much  in  the  mind  of  which  we  are  unconscious. 
Formerly  consciousness  wag  regarded  as  being  co- 
extensive with  mind — the  mind  being  held  to  be 
conscious  of  all  its  own  activities,  of  all  the  changes 


228  MEMOBY. 

or  modifications  that  take  place  in  it.  Leibnitz 
was  the  first  to  confute  this  opinion,  and  to  establish 
the  doctrine  that  there  are  energies  always  at  work, 
and  modifications  constantly  taking  place  in  the 
mind,  of  which  we  are  quite  unconscious.1  Since  his 
time  this  opinion  has  been  gradually  gaining  ground, 
and  now  it  is  a  generally  received  doctrinS  in  philo- 
sophy.2 

Consciousness,  or  the  internal  sense,  whicL'reveals  to 
us  what  exists  or  is  taking  place  in  the  mir.d,  is,  like 
the  external  senses,  which  take  cognisance  of  outer 
objects,  limited  in  its  sphere  of  operation.  We  cannot 
by  means  of  the  bodily  senses  take  cognisance  of  all 
that  exists  in  the  physical  world,  nor  can  we  by  con- 
sciousness comprehend  all  that  is  taking  plae  **  the 
mind.  "  Consciousness,"  says  H.  Taine,  "  is  ~e 

sufficient  in  psychological  inquiries  than  the  na 
in  optical  inquiries."     "  Could  we  magnify  the  Discern- 
ing power  of  consciousness  as  we  can  magn;f>    the 
power  of  vision  by  the  microscope,  we  might  enable 
consciousness  to  extend  its  cognisance  to  modifications 

1  u  The  psychologists  of  Germany,  from  the  time  of  Leibnitz,  have 
taught  that  much  of  our  mental  work  is  done  without  conscious- 
ness."— Dr.  Carpenter.  "To  this  great  philosopher  belongs  the 
honour  of  having  originated  this  opinion,  and  of  having  supplied 
some  of  the  strongest  arguments  in  its  support." — Sir  W.  Hamilton. 
"D'ailleurs  il  y  a  mille  marques  qui  font  juger  qu'il  y  a  a  tout 
moment  une  infinite*  de  perceptions  en  nous,  mais  sans  Apperception 
et  sans  Reflexion,  c'est  &  dire  des  changements  dans  1'Ame  meme,  dont 
nous  ne  nous  appercevons  pas,  parce  que  ces  impressions  sont  ou  trop 
petites  et  en  trop  grand  nombre,  ou  trop  unies  en  sortes  qu'elles 
n'ont  rien  d'assez  distinguant  a  part  mais  jointes  a  d'autres,  elles  ne 
laissent  pas  de  faire  le*ur  effet  et  de  se  faire  sentir  dans  1'assemblage 
ou  moins  confuse"ment." — Leibnitz. 

1  "The  fact  of  such  latent  mental  modifications  is  now  established 
qeyond  a  rational  doubt ;  and,  on  the  supposition  of  their  reality,  we 
are  able  to  solve  various  psychological  phenomena  otherwise  inex- 
plicable."—^ W.  Hamilton. 


BOND,  CONSCIOUS  AND  UNCONSCIOUS.  229 

twice,  ten  times,  ten  thousand  times  less  than  it  is  now 
competent  to  apprehend." — Sir  W.  Hamilton.1 

In  order  to  consciousness  the  mind  requires  to  be  in 
a  state  of  activity.  "  In  so  far  as  we  are  conscious," 
says  Sir  W.  Hamilton,  "we  are  active.  .  .  We  are 
never  directly  conscious  of  passivity."  Further,  "  Con- 
scious' s  exists  only,  in  virtue  of  a  change  from  one 
state  01  condition  of  mind  to  another,  by  the  occurrence 
of  a  st  *e  unlike  the  previous  state,  and  can  continue 
only  f  >  long  as  the  change  continues  ".—H.  Spencer.2 
"  W  ay  fairly  presume  that  when  all  the  currents  of 
the  i-am  are  in  a  balanced  condition,  when  no  one  is 
commencing,  increasing,  or  abating,  consciousness  or 
feeling  is  null,  mind  is  quiescent.  A  disturbance  at  any 
point  wakens  up  consciousness  for  the  time,  a  second 
disturbance  continues  it  from  another  point,  and  so  on, 
— the.,  variety  of  stimulus  in  the  waking  state  forbidding 
the  perfect  equilibrium  of  the  mind." — Prof.  Bain. 
TK  *  continuance  of  the  same  state  of  mind  is  opposed 
*fo  C&ftteciousness,  for  it  is  possible  for  a  man  to  think  on 
a  Subject  till  he  ceases  to  be  conscious  of  it,  as  he  may 
gaze  on  an  object  till  the  eye  becomes  blind.8  Hence 


1  There  is  no  good  reason  "  for  doubting  that,  if  our  powers  of 
attention  and  memory  were  more  perfect  than  they  are,  so  as  to  give 
us  the  same  advantage  in  examining  rapid  events  which  the  micro- 
scope gives  for  examining  minute  portions  of  extension,  they  would 
enlarge  our  views  with  respect  to  the  intellectual  world  no  less  than 
that  instrument  has  with  respect  to  the  material ". — D.  Stewart. 

8  "  We  are  only  conscious  as  we  are  conscious  of  a  determinate 
state  or  mental  modification,  the  existence  of  which  supposes  a 
change  or  transition  from  some  other  state  or  modification." — Sir  W. 
Hamilton. 

8  "  The  very  condition  on  which  only  consciousness  exists  is 
perpetual  change  ;  .  .  .  a  truth  illustrated  by  the  fact  that  when,  as 
under  intense  agony,  the  sensation  ultimately  becomes  strong  enough 
totally  to  exclude  all  thought,  totally  to  absorb  consciousness — con* 
Bciousness  ceases  ;  the  patient  faints." — H.  Spencer. 
17 


230  MEMOEY. 

the  evil  of  allowing  the  mind  to  dwell  too  long  on  any 
one  subject.  There  must  be  change  and  variety  in 
order  to  clearness  and  vigour  of  thought. 

It  is  owing  to  the  effort,  or  the  resistance,  put  forth  by 
the  Ego  against  whatever  is  opposed  to  it  that  conscious- 
ness exists.  "  Consciousness/'  says  Prof.  Ferrier,  "  is 
an  act  of  antagonism  put  forth  against  whatsoever  state 
or  modification  of  humanity  it  comes  in  contact  with." 
"  The  impression  we  call  resistance  is  the  primordial, 
the  universal,  the  ever-present  constituent  of  conscious- 
ness/' —  H.  Spencer.  Did  complete  and  perfect  harmony 
exist  between  the  Ego  and  the  Non-Ego  —  the  world 
within  and  the  world  without  —  no  jarring,  no  struggle, 
no  resistance,  consciousness  as  we  now  know  it  could 
have  no  existence.1  Hence,  there  have  not  been  want- 
ing those  who  have  regarded  consciousness  as  an  evil 
or  defect  of  our  nature.2 

The  degree  or  strength  of  our  consciousness  "  always 
exists  in  an  inverse  ratio  to  the  degree  of  intensity  of 
any  of  our  sensations,  passions,  emotions,"  &c.  ;  and 
"  consciousness  is  never  so  effectually  depressed,  or 


there  an  entire  and  perfect  fitness  of  relations  between 
the  Ego  and  the  Non-Ego,  a  complete  certitude  in  every  respect,  a 
full  and  exact  harmony,  consciousness  would  be  extinguished."  —  Dr. 
Maudsley.  "  Know  ye  not  that  ye  are  what  ye  are  only  on  account  of 
the  antagonism  between  you  and  it  (i.e.,  the  external  world)  ;  that  ye 
perceive  things  only  by  resisting  their  impressions,  by  denying  them, 
not  in  word  only,  but  also  in  vital  deed  ;  that  your  refusal  to  be 
acted  upon  by  them  constitutes  your  very  personality,  and  your  very 
perception  of  them."  —  Prof.  Ferrier. 

a  "  Many  besides  Schopenhauer  have  secretly  regarded  conscious- 
ness as  the  hideous  mistake  and  malady  of  nature."  —  Prof. 
Drummond.  "Children  are,  by  learned  men,  said  to  be  long 
ignorant  of  the  Ego  —  blessed  in  many  respects  by  their  ignorance  I 
This  same  Ego,  as  it  now  exists,  being  perhaps  part  of  the  fruit  of 
that  forbidden  tree,  —  that  mere  knowledge  of  good  as  well  as  of  evil 
which  our  great  mother  bought  for  us  at  such  a  price."  —  Dr.  John 
Brown. 


MIND,  CONSCIOUS  AND  UNCONSCIOUS.  231 

perhaps  we  may  say,  never  so  totally  obliterated  within 
us,  as  when  we  are  highly  transported  by  the  vivid- 
ness of  any  sensation,  or  absorbed  in  the  violence  of  any 
passion  ;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  returning  conscious- 
ness, or  increasing  self-reference,  has  always  the  effect  of 
deadening  the  sensation  and  suspending  the  passion, 
until  at  length,  when  it  reaches  its  ultimatum,  the  sensa- 
tion or  passion  becomes  totally  extinct". — Prof.  Ferrier.1 
A  sensation,  thought,  or  motion  requires  to  be  of  a 
certain  magnitude  or  intensity,  and  to  persist  before  the 
mind  for  a  certain  time,  in  order  to  our  being  conscious 
of  it.2  The  mind  is  constantly  receiving  impressions, 
thoughts  are  incessantly  passing  through  it  that  are  un- 
perceived,  because  they  are  not  of  sufficient  magnitude 
or  intensity  to  make  themselves  felt.3  In  like  manner, 

1  u  When  passion  or  any  state  of  mind,  at  the  one  pole,  is  at  its 
maximum,  consciousness  is  at  its  minimum,  this  maximum  being 
sometimes  so  great  as  absolutely  to  extinguish  consciousness  while  it 
continues ;  and  vice  versa,  when  consciousness  is  at  its  maximum,  the 
passion,  or  whatever  the  state  of  mind  at  the  opposite  pole  may  be,  is 
at  its  minimum,  the  maximum  being  in  this  case,  too,  sometimes  so 
great  as  to  amount  to  a  total  suspension  of  the  passion,"  &c..—Prqf. 
Ferrier.     "By  a  wise  ordinance  of  nature   our  feelings   have  no 
abiding  place  in  our  memory ;  nay,  the  more  vivid  they  are  in  the 
moment  of   their    existence,  the    more   dim  and  difficult  to   be 
remembered    do    they    make    the    thoughts    which    accompanied  ' 
them.      Those    of   my  readers    who    at    any    time  of   their    life 
have    been    in    the    habit    of    reading    novels    may    easily    con- 
vince themselves  of  this  truth  by  comparing  their  recollections  of 
those  stories  which  most  excited  their  curiosity,  and  even  painfully 
affected  their  feelings,  with  their  recollections  of  the  calm  and  medi- 
tative pathos  of  Shakespeare  and  Milton." — S.  T.  Coleridge. 

2  "  If  one  of  the  conditions  of  consciousness  is  wanting,  whether 
intensity  or  duration,  or  others  of  which  we  are  ignorant,  .  %  .  con- 
sciousness disappears." — Th.  Eibot. 

8  Many  impressions  "  are  either  so  faint  in  themselves,  or  so 
familiar,  so  submerged  in  stronger  sensations,  or  so  incapable  of 
exciting  trains  of  reflex  feeling  in  the  preoccupied  mind,  that  we 
are1  neither  conscious  of  them  when  present,  nor  capable  of  re- 
membering them  afterwards." — G.  H.  Lewes. 


232  MEMOBY. 

"a  certain  amount  of  time  is  necessary  for  an  impres- 
sion to  be  perceived,"  and  "  an  essential  condition  of 
consciousness  is  wanting  when  the  duration  of  the 
nervous  process  falls  below  this  minimum". — Th.  Ribot.1 
Thus,  acts  which  are  at  first  executed  slowly,  and  with 
full  consciousness,  become  gradually  less  and  less  per- 
ceptible as  they  gain  in  ease  and  rapidity  by  repetition, 
till  they  fall  below  the  minimum  necessary  for  con- 
sciousness, and  become  unconscious.2  In  this  way  im- 
pressions we  have  frequently  received,  thoughts  we 
have  often  entertained,  actions  we  have  many  times 
done,  come  to  pass  through  the  mind  so  rapidly,  that  we 
may  cease  to  be  conscious  of  them.  * 

It  is  not  to  be  supposed,  however,  that  these  uncon- 
scious impressions  or  thoughts  exert  no  influence  upon 
the  mind.  "  There  are  thoughts,"  says  0.  W.  Holmes, 
"  that  never  emerge  into  consciousness,  which  yet  make 
their  influence  felt  among  the  perceptible  mental 
currents,  just  as  the  unseen  planets  sway  the  move- 
ments of  those  that  are  watched  and  mapped  by  the 
astronomer."3  In  every  case  of  perception  there  is  an 
ultimate  perceptible  minimum,  which  if  we  conceive  to 


1  "  Some  minimum  of  time  must  be  admitted  as  the  condition  of 
consciousness ;    and  as  time    is  divisible  ad    infinitum,   whatever 
minimum   be  taken  there  must  be    admitted  to  be  beyond   the 
cognisance  of  consciousness  intervals  of  time  in  which,  if  mental 
agencies  be  performed,  these  will  be  latent  to  consciousness."—' 
Sir  W.  Hamilton. 

2  "  An  act  is  first  performed  slowly  and  cautiously  ;  by  repetition 
we  gain  ease  and  rapidity, — that  is,  the  nervous  process  which  serves 
as  a  base,  finding  a  path  already  marked  out,  moves  more  rapidly, 
until  it  gradually   falls  below  the  minimum  necessary  for  con- 
sciousness."— Th.  Ribot. 

8  "  It  is  surprising  how  uncomfortable  anyone  may  be  made  by 
the  obscure  notion  of  something  which  he  ought  to  have  said  or  done 
on  some  occasion,  but  did  not  say  or  do,  and  which  he  cannot  for  the 
life  of  him  now  remember." — Dr.  Maudsley. 


MIND,  CONSCIOUS  AND  UNCONSCIOUS.  233 

be  divided  into  two,  each  half  will  be  unperceived,  but 
each  contributes  its  part  towards  rendering  the  whole 
perceptible.1  The  rapidly  revolving  wheel,  bearing  the 
seven  prismatic  colours,  presents  to  the  eye  only  the 
appearance  of  white,  though  each  separate  colour  must 
have  contributed  to  produce  that  result.  "  A  sensation 
indecomposible  by  consciousness,  and  apparently 
simple,  is  a  compound  of  successive,  simultaneous 
sehsations  which  are  themselves  highly  complex." — 
H.  Taine. 

The  rapidity  with  which  ideas  which  are  familiar  to 
us  pass  through  the  mind  is  truly  marvellous.  A 
mathematician  can  go  through  a  long  and  intricate 
calculation  so  rapidly  that  only  the  result  comes  before 
consciousness,  and  yet  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  each 
step  of  the  process  passed  through  the  mind.  "  The 
rapidity  of  the  succession  of  transactions  in  our  dreams 
is  almost  inconceivable,  insomuch  that  when  we  are 
awakened  by  the  jarring  of  a  door  which  is  opened 
into  our  bedchamber  we  sometimes  dream  a  whole 
history  of  thieves  or  fire  in  the  very  instant  of  waken- 
ing."— Dr.  K  Darwin.  According  to  Kant,  as  quoted 
by  Sir  W.  Hamilton,  "we  can  dream  more  in  a 
minute  than  we  can  act  during  a  day";  and  "the 
great  rapidity  of  the  train  of  thought  in  sleep  is  one  of 
the  principal  causes  why  we  do  not  always  recollect 
what  we  dream". 

We  are  not  immediately  and  directly  conscious  of 

1 "  The  minimum  visible  is  the  smallest  expanse  which  can  be 
seen.  ...  If  we  divide  this  into  two  parts,  neither  half  can  by  itself 
be  an  object  of  vision.  .  .  .  But  it  is  evident  that  each  half  must  of 
itself  have  produced  in  us  a  certain  modification,  real  though  un- 
perceived."— Sir  W.  Hamilton.  "Two  (or  more)  successive  sensa- 
tions, which  singly  are  insensible  to  consciousness,  may,  when  com- 
bined, form  a  total  sensation  which  consciousness  perceives."— 
H.  Taint. 


234  MEMOBY. 

what  may  be  in  the  mind.  Consciousness  requires 
some  time  in  order  to  apprehend  what  may  be  pre- 
sented to  it,  and  by  the  time  it  has  apprehended  it  the 
idea  or  impression  may  have  passed  away  and  given 
place  to  something  else.  What  we  are  conscious  of, 
then,  is  not  what  is  in  the  mind  at  the  time,  but  what 
was  there  some  time  before,  and  is  now  matter  of 
memory.  "  Consciousness,"  says  Dr.  Thomas  Brown, 
"  is  not  that  faculty  by  which  we  become  sensible  of 
the  feelings  that  are  present  to  the  mind,  but  that  by 
which  we  remember  the  feelings  that  have  recently 
passed  through  it."  "  The  undeniable  condition  oi 
consciousness,"  says  Sir  W.  Hamilton,  "  is  memory." l 
The  time  taken  by  consciousness  to  perceive  an  im- 
pression varies  greatly  in  different  individuals  and 
under  different  circumstances,  being  longer  in  old  age 
or  when  the  mental  faculties  are  impaired. 

In  order  to  consciousness  an  impression  must  be  in 
connection  with  the  nervous  system,  and  reach  the 
sensorium  or  seat  of  consciousness,  which,  according  to 
Mr.  Lewes,  is  not  the  brain  alone,  but  extends  to  all 
the  ganglionic  centres  throughout  the  body.2  Impres- 
sions are  being  constantly  received  and  changes  effected 
in  different  parts  of  our  bodies,  of  which  we  are  un- 

1 "  Before  we  can  observe  a  modification  (of  mind)  it  is  already 
altered.  ...  It  hence  results  that  the  phenomena  can  only  be 
studied  through  its  reminiscence.*" — Sir  W.  Hamilton. 

2  Mr.  G.  H.  Lewes  argues  with  great  ability,  and  with  seemingly 
irresistible  cogency,  in  favour  of  the  position  that  sensation  or  feeling 
— that  is,  consciousness — is  a  property  of  all  nervous  ganglia.  "  That 
every  ganglionic  excitement  whatever  (cerebral,  spinal,  sympathetic) 
gives  birth  to  sensibility,  seems  a  more  likely  supposition  than  that 
sensibility  should  attach  to  certain  ganglia  (those  in  the  cerebrum) 
and  be  absent  from  others  made  up  of  exactly  the  same  nervous 
elements.  .  .  .  We  may  contend  for  the  sensibility  of  all  the  organa 
of  the  system  that  are  in  any  way  connected  by  nerves  to  nerve- 
centres." — Prof.  Bain. 


HIND,  CONSCIOUS  AND  UNCONSCIOUS.  235 

conscious,  because  they  are  not  connected  with  nerves 
and  nerve-centres.  These  changes  constitute  what  has 
been  called  the  organic  memory,  "which,"  says  M. 
Eibot,  "  resembles  the  psychological  ^in  all  but  one 
point — the  absence  of  consciousness  ".* 

Consciousness,  then,  is  not  to  be  regarded  as  synony- 
mous or  coextensive  with  mind.  To  have  an  idea  or 
an  i  impression  in  the  mind,  and  to  be  conscious  of  it, 
are  not  one  and  the  same  thing,  for  there  are  ideas  and 
impressions  constantly  in  the  mind  of  which  we  are 
totally  unconscious.2 

We  have  already  expressed  the  opinion  that  every 
impression  we  receive,  every  thought  we  think,  as  well 
as  every  action  we  do,  causes  some  change  in  the 
material  structure  of  our  bodies,  and  that  this  change 
v  is  permanent,  forming  an  imperishable  record  of  all 
that  we  have  experienced,  thought,  or  done  in  the 
past.8  In  like  manner  we  believe  that  every  impression 
or  thought  that  has  once  been  before  consciousness 
remains  ever  after  impressed  in  the  mind.4  It  may 

1  "  Psychical  memory  is  nothing  but  the  highest  and  most  com- 
plex form  of  organic  memory." — Th.  Ribot. 

8  "  Consciousness  is  not  to  be  regarded  as  synonymous  or  as  co- 
extensive with  mind.  .  .  .  It  is  not  to  be  regarded  as  an  essence,  a 
fundamental  property,  of  mind,  but  as  a  phenomenon  having  its  own 
conditions  of  existence." — Th.  Ribot.  "Those  who  speak  of  mind 
and  consciousness  as  coextensive,  .  .  .  and  treat  the  notion  of  un- 
conscious mind  as  a  gross  absurdity,  should  soberly  explain  where, 
during  a  particular  conscious  state,  all  the  rest  of  the  mind  is ;  where, 
in  fact,  all  that  furniture  beyond  the  particular  piece  then  in  use  is 
stored." — Dr.  Maudsley. 

8  "  After  both  conscious  sensation  and  perception  have  been  ex- 
tinguished, their  material  vestiges  yet  remain  in  our  nervous  system 
by  way  of  a  change  in  its  molecular  or  atomic  disposition,  that  enables 
the  nerve  substance  to  reproduce  all  the  physical  processes  of  the 
original  sensation,  and  with  these  the  corresponding  psychical  pro- 
cesses of  sensation  and  perception." — Dr.  E.  Hering. 

4  tt  If  every  state  of  consciousness  implies  as  an  integral  part  a 


236  MBMOEY. 

never  again  come  up  before  consciousness,  but  it  will 
doubtless  remain  in  that  vast  ultra-conscious  region  of 
the  mind,  unconsciously  moulding  and  fashioning  our 
subsequent  thoughts  and  actions. 

It  is  only  a  small  part  of  what  exists  in  the  mind 
that  we  are  at  any  time  conscious  of.  There  is  always 
much  that  is  known  to  be  in  the  mind  that  exists  in  it 
unconsciously,  and  must  be  stored  away  somewhere. 
We  may  be  able  to  recall  it  into  consciousness  when  WTG 
wish  to  do  so,  but  at  other  times  the  mind  is  uncon- 
scious of  its  existence.  Further,  everyone's  experience 
must  tell  him  that  there  is  much  in  his  mind  that  he 
cannot  always  recall  when  he  may  wish  to  do  so, — much 
that  he  can  recover  only  after  a  laboured  search,  or  that 
he  may  search  for  in  vain  at  the  time,  but  which  may 
occur  to  him  afterwards  when  perhaps  he  is  not 
thinking  about  it.1  Again,  much  that  we  probably 
would  never  be  able  to  recall,  or  that  would  not  recur 
to  us  under  ordinary  circumstances,  we  may  remember 
to  have  had  in  the  mind  when  it  is  mentioned  to  us  by 
others.  In  such  a  case  there  must  still  have  remained 
some  trace  or  scintilla  of  it  in  the  mind  before  we  could 
recognise  it  as  having  been  there  before. 

nervous  action,  and  if  this  action  produces  a  permanent  modification 
of  the  nervous  centres,  the  state  of  consciousness  will  also  be  recorded 
in  the  same  place  and  manner." — Th.  Ribot.  "  We  have  every  reason 
to  believe  that  mental  power  when  once  called  forth  follows  the 
analogy  of  everything  we  see  in  the  material  universe  in  the  fact  of 
its  perpetuity.  .  .  .  Every  single  effort  of  mind  is  a  creation  which 
can  never  go  back  again  into  nonentity.  It  may  slumber  in  the 
depths  of  forgetfulness  as  light  and  heat  slumber  in  the  coal  seams, 
but  there  it  is,  ready  at  the  bidding  of  some  appropriate  stimulus 
to  come  again  out  of  the  darkness  into  the  light  of  consciousness." — 
/.  D.  MorelL 

1  "  That  which  has  been  long  forgotten,  nay,  that  which  we  have 
often  in  vain  endeavoured  to  recollect,  will  sometimes,  without  any 
effort  of  ours,  occur  to  us  on  a  sudden,  and,  if  I  may  so  speak,  of  iU 
own  accord." — Dr.  Beattie. 


MIND,   CONSCIOUS  AND  UNCONSCIOUS.  237 

These  cases  occur  in  ordinary  states  of  the  mind,  but 
in  abnormal  or  exalted  mental  conditions  we  find  still 
more  remarkable  instances.  Thus  in  somnambulism, 
dreams,  hysteria,  the  delirium  of  a  fever,  or  on  the 
approach  of  death,  persons  have  been  known  to  recall 
events  of  their  past  life,  long  since  forgotten,  and 
unable  to  be  recalled  under  ordinary  circumstances.1 
Persons  in  the  delirium  of  a  fever  have  been  known  to 
speak  in  a  language  which  they  had  known  in  their 
childhood,  but  which  for  many  years  had  passed  from 
their  memory ;  or  to  repeat  with  apparent  accuracy 
discourses  to  which  they  had  listened  many  years  pre- 
viously, but  of  which  before  the  fever  they  had  no  recol- 
lection. They  have  even  been  known  to  repeat  accu- 
rately long  passages  from  books  in  foreign  tongues,  of 
which  they  never  had  any  understanding,  and  had  no 
recollection  of  in  health,  but  which  they  had  casually 
heard  recited  many  years  before.2  The  most  remark- 

1  "  The  mind  frequently  contains  whole  systems  of  knowledge 
which,  though  in  our  normal  state  they  have  faded  into  absolute 
oblivion,  may  in  certain  abnormal  states,  as  madness,  febrile  delirium, 
somnambulism,  catalepsy,  &c.,  flash  out  into  luminous  consciousness, 
and  even  throw  into  the  shade  of  unconsciousness  those  other  systems 
by  which  they  had  for  a  long  period  been  eclipsed  and  even  extin- 
guished.   For  example,  there  are  cases  in  which  the  extinct  memory 
of  whole  languages  was  suddenly  restored,  and,  what  is  even  still 
more  remarkable,  in  which  the  faculty  was  exhibited  of  accurately 
repeating  in  known  or  unknown  tongues,  passages  which  were  never 
within  the  grasp  of  conscious  memory  in  the  normal  state." — Sir  W. 
Hamilton.    "  It  is  now  fully  established  that  a  multitude  of  events 
which  are  so  completely  forgotten  that  no  effort  of  the  will  can 
revive  them,  and  that  the  statement  of  them  calls  up  no  reminiscences, 
may  nevertheless  be,  so  to  speak,  embedded  in  the  memory,  and  may 
be  reproduced  with  intense  vividness  under  certain  physical  condi- 
tions."—Mr.  E.  H.  Lecky. 

2  A  case  is  related  by  S.  T.  Coleridge  of  a  young  woman  of  four  or 
five  and  twenty  who  could  neither  read  nor  write,  and  who  was 
eeized  with  a  nervous  fever,  during  which  she  continued  incessantly 
talking  Latin,  Greek,  and  Hebrew  in  very  pompous  tones,  and  with 


238  MEMORY. 

able  cases,  however,  are  those  of  persons  who  have 
been  resuscitated  from  drowning  or  hanging,  and  who 
have  reported  that  they  had  a  sudden  revelation  of 
all  the  events  of  their  past  life  presented  to  them 
with  the  utmost  minuteness  and  distinctness  just  before 
consciousness  left  them.1  Sir  Francis  Beaufort,  in 
describing  his  sensations  when  rescued  from  drowning, 
says  that  "  every  incident  of  his  former  life  seemed  to 
glance  across  his  recollection  in  a  retrograde  succession, 
not  in  mere  outline,  but  the  picture  being  filled  with 
every  minute  and  collateral  feature  "  forming  "  a  kind 
of  panoramic  view  of  his  entire  existence,  each  act  of 
it  accompanied  by  a  sense  of  right  and  wrong".  "I 
have  also  been  informed/'  says  Sir  B.  Brodie,  "  of 
other  instances  of  individuals  whose  minds  have  been 
affected  very  much  in  the  same  way,  when  they  were 
suddenly  placed  in  a  situation  which  threatened  imme- 

a  most  distinct  enunciation.  Sheets  of  her  ravings  were  taken  down 
from  her  own  mouth,  and  at  last  it  was  found  that  she  had  been  for 
some  years  servant  to  a  Protestant  pastor,  who  was  in  the  habit  of 
walking  up  and  down  a  passage  of  his  house  adjoining  the  kitchen, 
and  reading  aloud  to  himself  portions  of  his  favourite  authors. 
In  the  books  that  had  belonged  to  him  were  found  many  passages  identi- 
cal with  those  taken  down  from  the  girl's  mouth. 

1  "  It  is  affirmed  of  the  drowning  man  that  in  the  brief  space  of 
time  which  precedes  unconsciousness,  every  event  of  his  past  life 
passes  in  rapid  review  before  his  eyes." — Dr.  M'Cosh.  "  I  was 
once  told  by  a  near  relative  of  mine  that  having  in  her  childhood 
fallen  into  a  river  and  being  on  the  very  verge  of  death  but  for  the 
assistance  which  reached  her  at  the  last  critical  moment,  she  saw  in 
a  moment  her  whole  life  clothed  in  its  forgotten  incidents,  arranged 
before  her  as  in  a  mirror,  not  successively,  but  simultaneously  ;  and 
she  had  a  faculty  developed  as  suddenly  for  comprehending  the 
whole  and  every  part." — T.  De  Quincey.  Dr.  Abercrombie  gives  the 
case  of  a  naval  officer  who  fell  overboard  and  was  taken  up  in  a  state 
of  suspended  animation.  "  In  giving  an  account  of  his  feelings  he 
stated  his  only  distinct  recollection  to  be,  that  in  the  act  of  drowning 
fts  it  might  correctly  be  called,  the  whole  events  of  his  past  life 
were  represented  to  him  at  the  instant  in  the  most  clear  and  dis- 
tinct manner." 


MIND,   CONSCIOUS  AND  UNCONSCIOUS.  239 

diate  death,  although  they  were  not  at  all  deprived  of 
their  sensibility  and  self-possession." 

There  ia,  indeed,  every  reason  to  believe  that  there 
is  no  such  thing  with  any  of  us  as  absolutely  forgetting 
anything  that  has  once  been  in  the  mind.  "All  mental 
activities,  all  acts  of  knowledge,"  says  H.  Schmid,  as 
quoted  by  Sir  W.  Hamilton,  "  which  have  been  once 
excited  persist.  .  .  .  We  never  wholly  lose  them,  but 
they  become  obscure.  ...  The  obscure  cognition  may 
exist  simply  out  of  consciousness,  so  that  it  can  be 
recalled  by  a  common  act  of  reminiscence.  Again,  it 
may  be  impossible  to  recover  it  by  an  act  of  voluntary 
recollection ;  but  some  association  may  revivify  it 
enough  to  make  it  flash  after  a  long  oblivion  into  con- 
sciousness. Further,  it  may  be  obscured  so  far  that  it 
can  only  be  resuscitated  by  some  morbid  affection  of 
the  system ;  or,  finally,  it  may  be  absolutely  lost  to  us 
in  this  life,  and  destined  only  for  our  reminiscence  in 
the  life  to  come." 

By  adopting  the  opinion  that  every  thought  or  im- 
pression that  had  once  been  consciously  before  the 
mind  is  ever  afterwards  retained,  we  obtain  light  on 
many  obscure  mental  phenomena;  and  especially  do  we 
draw  from  it  the  conclusion  of  the  perfectibility  of  the 
memory  to  an  almost  unlimited  extent.  *  We  cannot 
doubt  that,  could  we  penetrate  to  the  lowest  depths  of 
our  mental  nature,  we  should  there  find  traces  of  every 
impression  we  have  received,  every  thought  we  have 
entertained,  and  every  act  we  have  done  throughout  our 
past  life,  each  one  making  its  influence  felt  in  the  way 
of  building  up  our  present  knowledge,  or  in  guiding 
our  everyday  actions ;  and  if  they  exist  in  the  mind, 
might  it  not  be  possible  to  recall  most  if  not  all  of 
them  into  consciousness  when  we  wished  to  do  BO,  if 


240  MEMOBY. 

our  memories  or  powers  of  recollection  were  what  they 

should  be?1 

Our  judgment  of  things  depends  on  our  past  experi- 
ence, the  particular  instances  of  which  we  may  be 
unable  to  recall,  but  which  undoubtedly  have  their 
effect  in  determining  the  result  at  which  we  arrive.  A 
merchant  can  test  a  piece  of  goods  and  declare  its 
quality  and  value  with  the  greatest  accuracy  from  hav- 
ing previously  examined  numerous  examples  of  the 
same  kind,  none  of  which  may  be  consciously  before 
the  mind  at  the  time,  but  many  of  which  must  have 
unconsciously  aided  him  in  coming  to  a  decision. 
"  What  is  termed  '  common  sense/  "  says  J.D.  Morell, 
"  is  nothing  but  a  substratum  of  experiences  out  of 
which  our  judgments  flow,  while  the  experiences  them- 
selves are  hidden  away  in  the  unconscious  depths  of 
our  intellectual  nature  ; 2  and  even  the  flow  of  public 
opinion  is  formed  by  ideas  which  lie  tacitly  in  the 
national  mind,  and  come  into  consciousness,  generally, 
a  long  time  after  they  have  been  really  operating  and 
shaping  the  course  of  events  in  human  history." 

One's  present  actions  and  thoughts  depend  more 
upon  his  previous  thoughts  and  actions  that  he  himself 
is  aware  of,  or  than  is  generally  recognised.8  We  ima- 
gine that  we  ordain  the  direction  of  our  thoughts,  but 
may  it  not  be  that  our  thoughts  merely  go  in  the  direc- 

1 "  There  is  not  a  single  act  nor  a  single  thought  of  our  past  life," 
says  one,  "  that  has  not  had  an  influence  in  fixing  our  present  intel- 
lectual and  moral  condition." 

1 "  Man's  ordinary  common  sense  is  the  resultant  of  the  uncon- 
scious co-ordination  of  a  long  succession  of  small  experiences  mostly 
forgotten  or  perhaps  never  brought  out  into  distinct  consciousness." 
— Dr.  Carpenter. 

8  "  Every  action  is  rigorously  determined  by  the  nature  of  the 
agent  and  the  conditions  under  which  the  act  takes  place."— G.  H, 
Lewes. 


MIND,   CONSCIOUS   AND   UNCONSCIOUS.  241 

tion  towards  which  they  are  unconsciously  drawn,  being 
swayed  by  the  unconscious  influence  of  past  thoughts  ? 
so  that  in  place  of  commanding  our  thoughts  we  are 
led  by  them,  and  simply  follow  in  their  wake.  "  I 
imagine/'  says  M.  Luys,  "  that  I  think  of  an  object  by 
a  spontaneous  effort  of  my  mind  ;  it  is  an  illusion.  .  .  . 
I  obey  when  I  think  I  am  commanding,  merely  turning 
in  a  direction  towards  which  I  am  unconsciously 
drawn."  A  man  fancies  he  is  free  and  can  act  in  this  way 
or  that  as  he  pleases,  but  others  who  know  him  and 
have  studied  his  character  are  usually  better  able  to 
determine  how  the  man  will  be  likely  to  act  under 
given  circumstances  than  the  man  himself.1  If  all  the 
elements  that  go  to  form  a  man's  character  could  be 
taken  into  account  and  duly  estimated,  we  believe  that 
his  conduct  in  any  particular  case  could  be  infallibly 
predicted.  "  Ever  since  men  lived  in  society  they  have 
been  in  the  habit  of  predicting  the  future  conduct  of 
each  other  from  the  past.  .  .  .  Men  are  perpetually 
staking  pleasure,  and  fortune,  and  reputation,  and  even 
life  itself,  on  the  very  principle  (of  necessity)  that  they 
speculatively  reject." — S.  Bailey. 

If  every  thought  or  impression  that  bas  once  been 
consciously  before  the  mind  is  ever  afterwards  retained,  it 
will  retain  along  with  it  all  those  thoughts  or  impressions 
with  which  at  any  time  it  has  been  associated.  Thus 
the  words  "man,"  "horse,"  "  child,"  will  come  in  time 
to  be  associated  with  an  immense  number  of  men, 
horses,  children,  and  that  some  rather  than  others  come 
before  the  mind  on  any  particular  occasion  will  depend 
on  a  variety  of  circumstances,  more  particularly  on  the 

1 "  Les  hommes  se  trompent  en  ce  point  qu'ils  pensent  etre  111  ires. 
Or  en  quoi  consiste  une  telle  opinion?  En  cela  settlement,  qu'ila 
ont  conscience  de  leurs  actions  et  ignurent  les*  causes  qui  lea  deler- 
minent." — Spinoza. 


242  MEMOET. 

particular  frame  of  mind  or  train  of  thought  at  the 
time.1  Thus  every  phase  of  thought  finds  its  ap- 
propriate expression,  and  a  man  is  able  to  clothe  his 
ideas  in  suitable  language  without  any  conscious  effort 
or  recognised  act  of  judgment.  The  exact  words  that 
serve  to  express  his  ideas  come  up  selected  from  a  host 
of  others,  by  a  power  of  whose  operations  he  is  uncon- 
scious.2 

In  learning  anything,  particularly  if  it  be  of  a  diffi- 
cult or  complicated  nature,  it  is  necessary  to  reduce  it 
to  its  elements,  and  bring  the  mind  to  master  them 
one  by  one.  Thus,  in  teaching  a  child  to  read  or  write, 
we  begin  by  making  it  acquainted  with  the  individual 
letters.  These  are  afterwards  combined  into  words, 
which  again  go  to  form  sentences  by  which  ideas  are 
conveyed  to  the  mind.  In  reading  with  the  mind 
directed  to  the  meaning,  we  are  no  longer  distinctly 
conscious  of  the  words  and  letters  by  means  of  which 


lw  We  must,  I  tli ink,  admit  that  the  thought  of  an  object  ...  is 
always  accompanied  by  an  escort  more  or  less  numerous  of  accessory 
thoughts  equally  present  to  the  mind  though  in  general  unknown 
in  themselves  to  consciousness  ;  that  these  accessories  are  not  without 
their  influence  in  guiding  the  operations  elicited  by  the  principal 
notion,  and  it  may  even  be  added  that  they  are  so  much  the  more 
calculated  to  exert  an  effect  in  the  conduct  of  our  procedure  in  pro- 
portion as  ...  the  influences  they  exert  are  farther  withdrawn 
in  ordinary  from  the  ken  of  consciousness." — Sir  W.  Hamilton. 

2  "  From  what  cause  does  it  happen  that  a  good  speaker  no  sooner 
conceives  what  he  would  express,  than  the  letters,  syllables,  and 
words  arrange  themselves  according  to  innumerable  rules  of  speech 
while  he  never  thinks  of  these  rules?  He  means  to  express  certain 
sentiments ;  in  order  to  do  this  properly,  a  selection  must  be  made 
of  the  materials  out  of  many  thousands.  He  makes  this  selection 
without  any  expense  of  time  or  thought.  The  materials  selected 
must  be  arranged  in  a  particular  order  according  to  innumerable 
rules  of  grammar,  logic,  and  rhetoric,  and  accompanied  with  a  par- 
ticular tone  and  emphasis.  He  does  all  this  as  it  were  by  inspiration, 
without  thinking  of  any  of  these  rules,  and  without  breaking  one  of 
them."— Dr.  Thomas  Reid. 


MIND,  CONSCIOUS  AND  UNCONSCIOUS.  243 

it  is  conveyed,  but  that  these  have  all  been  before  the 
mind  can  scarcely  be  doubted.1  Our  recognition  of  a 
word  is  not  merely  the  recognition  of  the  word  as  a 
whole,  but  it  is  the  recognition  of  the  individual  letters 
of  it,  so  that  in  reading,  if  a  letter  of  a  word  is  mis- 
placed, we  at  once  detect  it.  Hence  it  is  that  we  may 
be  able  to  recall  certain  letters  of  a  word  or  a  name 
without  being  able  to  remember  the  whole.  We  can, 
perhaps,  say  that  it  begins  with  a  certain  letter  or  ends 
with  a  certain  other  letter,  and  yet  for  a  time  may  be 
unable  to  recall  it.  In .  like  manner,  a  hint  from  a 
single  letter  may  serve  to  recall  a  word  or  even  a  whole 
sentence.  In  looking  over  a  book  for  the  occur- 
rence of  a  particular  word  or  name,  we  cast  the 
eye  over  a  page  and  can  almost  immediately  tell 
whether  it  is  to  be  found  there  or  not.  "  Here,"  says 
Sir  W.  Hamilton,  "  the  mind  is  hardly  conscious  of  a 
single  word  but  that  of  which  it  is  in  quest ;  but  yet  it 
is  evident  that  each  word  and  letter  must  have  produced 
an  obscure  effect,  and  which  effect  the  mind  was  ready 
to  discriminate  and  strengthen  so  as  to  call  it  into  con- 
sciousness whenever  the  effect  was  found  to  be  that 
which  the  letters  of  the  word  could  determine." 

In  thought,  too,  doubtless  the  elementary  parts  of 
which  an  idea  or  thought  is  composed  are  present  to 

1  In  learning  to  read,  "  each  word,  each,  letter  was  originally  a 
separate  object  of  consciousness.  At  length  the  knowledge  of  letters, 
and  words,  and  lines  being,  as  it  were,  fused  into  our  habits,  we  no 
longer  have  any  distinct  consciousness  of  them  as  severally  con- 
curring in  the  result  of  which  alone  we  are  conscious.  But  each 
word  and  letter  has  its  effect,  an  effect  which  can  at  any  moment 
become  an  object  of  consciousness." — Sir  IV.  Hamilton.  "  In  read- 
ing the  page  of  a  book,  it  is  clear  to  me,  however  rapidly  you  may 
read  it,  that  every  letter  of  that  pasje  passes  in  review  through  the 
mind.  The  mind  first  combines  the  letters  upon  the  page  into  words, 
then  the  words  into  sentences,  and  from  those  sentences  it  extract* 
the  meaning," — G.  P.  Bidder. 


244  MEMORY. 

the  mind  though  they  may  not  come  before  conscious*- 
ness.1  An  expert  accountant  can  run  his  eye  over  a 
column  of  figures  and  give  the  total  correctly,  without 
having  had  a  conscious  appreciation  of  any  of  the 
figures.2  According  to  Dugald  Stewart,  "  the  mind 
may  think  and  will  without  attending  to  its  thoughts 
or  volitions  so  as  to  be  able  afterwards  to  recollect 
them.  ...  A  man  may  be  conscious  of  a  perception 
without  being  able  afterwards  to  recollect  it."  3  May 
not  this  account  for  the  fact  that  "persons  under  the 
influence  of  chloroform  have  been  known  to  hear  them- 
selves shriek  during  the  performance  of  a  surgical  opera- 
tion at  the  very  moment  when  they  had  no  feeling  of 
pain  whatever  "  ? — Dr.  Lay  cock.  May  they  not  have  felt 
the  pain  for  a  moment  but  ceased  to  remember  it  ? 

In  our  first  attempts  to  walk,  to  write,  to  play  on  an 
instrument,  or  to  carry  on  any  other  operation,  we  are 
intensely  conscious  of  every  movement  that  we.  make. 
By  degrees,  as  we  acquire  more  ease  and  dexterity  in 
their  performance,  we  become  less  and  less  conscious  of 
them,  till  we  may  come  to  perform  them  quite  uncon- 
sciously. "  When  a  beginner  is  learning  his  notes  on 

1 "  In  ordinary  thinking  we  are  as  little  conscious  of  the  particular 
steps — our  interest  being  concentrated  on  the  result — as  we  are  of 
the  particular  stages  of  an  action.7' — G.  H.  Lewes. 

2  "  An  expert  accountant,  for  example,  can  sum  up  almost  with 
a  single  glance  of  his  eye  a  long  column  of  figures.  He  can  tell 
the  sum  with  unerring  certainty,  while  at  the  same  time  he  is 
unable  to  recollect  any  one  of  the  figures  of  which  that  sum  is  coin- 
posed,  and  yet  nobody  doubts  that  each  of  these  figures  has  passed 
through  his  mind  or  supposes  that  when  the  rapidity  of  the  pro- 
cess becomes  so  great  that  he  is  unable  to  recollect  the  various 
steps  of  it,  he  obtains  the  result  by  a  sort  of  inspiration." — D. 
Stewart. 

3 "  A  perception  or  an  idea  which  passes  through  the  mind 
without  leaving  any  trace  on  the  memory  may  yet  serve  to  intro 
duce  other  ideas  connected  with  it  by  the  laws  of  association."— • 
D.  Stewart. 


MIND,    CONSCIOUS  AND   UNCONSCIOUS.  245 

the  pianoforte,  he  has  deliberately  to  call  to  mind  each 
note ;  but  when,  by  frequent  practice,  he  has  acquired 
complete  skill  in  playing  on  that  instrument  there  is  no 
conscious  memory,  but  his  movements  are  automatic.*' 
— Dr.  H.  Maudsley.  There  are  some  who  hold  that 
when  actions  thus  come  to  be  performed  unconsciously, 
the  mind  ceases  to  have  any  part  in  the  direction  of 
them.1  "  In  the  case  of  some  operations  which  are  very 
familiar  to  us,  we  find  ourselves  unable  to  attend 
to  or  to  recollect  the  acts  of  the  will  by  which  they 
were  preceded ;  and  accordingly  some  philosophers  of 
great  eminence  have  called  in  question  the  existence 
of  such  volitions,  and  have  represented  our  habitual 
actions  as  involuntary  and  mechanical.  But  surely  the 
circumstance  of  our  inability  to  recollect  our  volitions 
does  not  authorise  us  to  dispute  their  possibility  any 
more  than  our  inability  to  attend  to -the  process  of  the 

1 "  When  we  perform  a  train  of  movements  without  any  further 
aid  of  the  will  than  to  commence  the  series,  there  must  be  a  fixed 
connection  between  each  and  the  one  that  follows." — Prof.  Bain. 
We  however  agree  with  those  who  regard  these  movements  as  being 
still  under  the  control  of  the  will  as  at  first,  through  the  presence  in 
the  mind  of  ideas  of  which  we  are  unconscious,  and  that  the  asso- 
ciated movements  are  in  consequence  of  association  of  the  ideas. 
"  Where  a  person  performing  a  difficult  piece  of  music  converses 
freely  at  the  same  time  on  some  subject  wholly  alien  to  his  occupa- 
tion, .  .  .  the  consciousness  passes  with  inappreciable  rapidity  from 
one  subject  to  the  other,  giving  the  effect  of  being  simultaneous  to 
what  is  in  reality  a  succession  of  states." — Sir  H.  Holland.  "  We  are 
not  conscious  of  the  separate  sensations  which  guide  speech  and 
w  riting.  .  .  .  Are  these  processes  mechanical  ?  By  no  means.  We 
know  that  they  were  laboriously  learned  by  long  tentative  efforts, 
each  of  which  was  accompanied  by  distinct  consciousness.  ...  To 
suppose  that  they  pass  from  the  psychical  to  the  physical  by  frequent 
repetition  would  lead  to  the  monstrous  conclusion  that,  when  a 
naturalist  has  by  laborious  study  become  so  familiarised  with  the 
specific  marks  of  an  animal  or  plant  that  he  can  recognise  at  a  glance 
a  particular  species,  or  recognise  by  a  single  character  the  nature 
of  the  rest,  the  rapidity  and  certainty  of  this  judgment  proves  it  to 
be  a  mechanical,  not  a  mental  act." — Q.  H.  Lewes. 
18 


246  MEMOB*. 

mind  in  estimating  the  distance  of  an  object  from  the 
eye  authorises  us  to  affirm  tliat  the  perception  is  instan- 
taneous." —  D.  Stewart.1 

Did  our  actions  not  become  more  and  more  easy  of 
execution,  and  gain  in  rapidity  by  repetition,  were  we 
still  as  conscious  of  them  as  at  first,  comparatively  little 
could  be  accomplished  in  the  course  of  a  lifetime.  If, 
in  order  to  walk,  we  had  ever  to  carefully  consider  each 
step  we  took,  or,  in  order  to  write,  had  always  to  attend 
to  the  formation  of  each  letter  —  were  all  our  other 
operations  performed  as  painfully  and  as  consciously  as 


cannot  help  thinking  it  more  philosophical  to  suppose 
that  those  actions  which  are  originally  voluntary  always  continue 
so,  although  ...  we  may  not  be  able  to  recollect  every  different 
volition.  Thus,  in  the  case  of  a  performer  on  the  harpsichord,  I 
apprehend  that  there  is  an  act  of  the  will  preceding  every  motion 
of  every  finger,  although  he  may  not  be  able  to  recollect  these 
volitions  afterwards,  and  although  he  may,  during  the  time  of  his 
performance,  be  employed  in  carrying  on  a  separate  train  of  thought. 
.  .  .  The  truth  seems  to  be  that,  in  consequence  of  the  association 
of  ideas,  the  different  steps  of  the  process  present  themselves  succes- 
sively to  the  thoughts  without  any  recollection  on  our  part,  and 
with  a  degree  of  rapidity  proportioned  to  the  length  of  pur  ex- 
perience, so  as  to  save  us  entirely  the  trouble  of  hesitation  and 
reflection,  by  giving  us  every  moment  a  precise  and  steady  notion 
of  the  effect  to  be  produced."  —  D.  Stewart.  "The  point  never  te 
be  left  out  of  sight  is  that  actions  which  are  known  to  be  preceded 
and  accompanied  by  sensations  do  not  lose  their  special  character  of 
sentience  .  .  .  because  they  are  not  preceded  and  accompanied  by 
that  peculiar  state  which  is  specially  called  consciousness.  When 
we  see  a  man  playing  the  piano,  and  at  the  same  time  talking  of 
something  far  removed  from  the  music,  we  say  his  fingers  move 
unconsciously,  but  we  do  not  conclude  that  he  is  a  musical  machine 
—  muscular  sensations  and  musical  sensations  regulate  every  move- 
ment of  his  fingers  ;  and  if  he  strikes  a  false  note,  or  if  one  of  the 
notes  jangles,  he  is  instantly  aware  of  the  fact.  .  .  .  That  a  particular 
group  of  sensations,  such  as  musical  tones,  will  set  going  a  particular 
group  of  muscular  movement  without  the  intervention  of  any 
conscious  effort  is  not  more  to  be  interpreted  on  purely  mechanical 
principles,  than  that  a  particular  phrase  will  cause  a  story-teller  to 
repeat  a  particular  anecdote,  or  an  old  soldier  '  to  fight  his  battles  o'er 
again  V  —  G.  H.  Lewes. 


MIND,  CONSCIOUS  AND  UNCONSCIOUS.  247 

at  first — life  could  scarcely  fail  to  be  a  burden.  In  like 
manner,  did  everything  that  exists  in  the  inind  exist 
there  consciously;  or  did  every  time  that  an  idea 
occurred  to  the  mind  all  the  other  ideas  that  had  at 
any  time  been  associated  with  it  come  up  along  with  it, 
and  a  selection  have  to  be  consciously  made  of  the  right 
one,  inconvenience  and  loss  of  time  could  not  fail  to 
result.  In  some  persons,  from  habit  or  lack  of  proper 
training,  an  idea  in  the  mind  immediately  recalls  a 
number  of  other  ideas,  having  more  or  less,  and  some- 
times very  little,  connection  with  it, — thus  distracting 
the  mind  with  a  multitude  of  thoughts,  making  the 
selection  of  the  best  a  conscious  act,  producing  hesi- 
tation and  indecision,  and  causing  loss  of  time.  The 
selection  of  the  right  thoughts  should  be  an  act  of  the 
unconscious  mind,  and  take  place  unconsciously. 

The  more  wo  cultivate  and  train  any  power  or 
faculty,  the  more  easily  and  rapidly  does  it  perform  its 
work, — the  less  is  consciousness  concerned  in  it,  the 
more  work  does  it  accomplish,  and  the  less  does  it 
suffer  from  fatigue.1  Our  mental  progress,  then,  is  in 
the  direction  of  our  becoming  unconscious,  or  largely 
unconscious,  of  many  of  our  activities.  Consciousness 
has  at  first  an  important  place  in  the  training  of  our 

1  "  There  is  a  remarkable  law  of  the  system  by  which  actions 
at  first  requiring  much  attention  are  after  frequent  repetition 
performed  with  a  much  less  degree  of  it,  or  without  the  mind 
being  conscious  of  any  effort.  This  is  exemplified  in  various  pro- 
cesses of  daily  occurrence,  as  reading  and  writing,  but  most  remark- 
all  ly  in  music." — Dr.  Abercrombie.  "Careful  practice  alone  is 
needed  in  order  that  previously  strange,  difficult,  and  complex 
movements  should  be  capable  of  being  performed  with  ease,  and 
that  after  a  time,  during  the  process  of  learning,  first  the  '.Con- 
ception' of  the  movements  needed,  and  subsequently  the  desire 
which  originally  prompted  to  their  execution,  may  alike  vanish  as 
conscious  states  by  which  they  are  necessarily  preceded." — Dr. 
Bastian. 


248  MEMOEY. 

faculties  and  the  building  up  of  our  knowledge.  The 
more  consciousness  is  concentrated  upon  any  new 
operation,  the  more  readily  is  it  mastered;  and  the 
more  it  is  concentrated  upon  any  idea  brought  before 
the  mind,  the  better  is  it  impressed  upon  the  memory. 
But  as  we  acquire  facility  and  skill  in  the  operation,  as 
the  memory  acquires  strength  we  become  less  conscious 
of  them.1  "  The  interference  of  consciousness,"  says 
Dr.  Maudsley,  "is  often  an  actual  hindrance  to  the 
association  of  ideas,  as  it  notably  is  to  the  performance 
of  movements  that  have  attained  the  complete  ease  of 
an  automatic  execution."  "  In  proportion  as  volition  has 
to  be  exercised  in  carrying  them  on,  in  that  proportion 
are  they  imperfectly  performed,  and  then  only  at  the 
expense  of  much  labour  and  fatigue." — J.  D.  Morell. 

The  great  object  of  education,  then,  should  be  to 
transfer  as  much  as  possible  of  our  actions  from  the 
conscious  to  the  unconscious  region  of  the  mind. 
"  The  possibility  of  all  education,"  says  Prof.  Huxley, 
"  is  based  upon  the  existence  of  this  power,  which  the 
nervous  system  possesses  of  organising  conscious 
actions  into  more  or  less  unconscious  or  reflex  opera- 
tions." "  A  purely  reflex  action  is  accompanied  with 
no  fatigue  at  all,  so  that  operations  which  were  painful 
in  the  extreme  to  .the  muscles  engaged  so  long  as  the 
will  had  to  compel  every  movement  for  their  per- 
formance, can  after  a  while  be  kept  up  the  whole  day 
with  scarcely  any  sense  of  weariness  whatever." — 
/.  D.  Morell. 

It  is  in  the  ultra-conscious  region  of  the  mind  that 

1  "  Consciousness  does  essential  service  in  the  building  up  of 
faculties  of  thought  and  action  ;  its  part  is  comparatively  small  in  the 
use  which  we  make  of  them  afterwards.  .  .  .  There  is  not  a  faculty 
of  the  mind  which,  though  they  began  by  using  it  consciously,  they 
do  not  after  habitual  practice  exercise  unconsciously." — Dr.  Maudsley. 


MIND,  CONSCIOUS   AND    UNCONSCIOUS.  249 

all  its  highest  operations  are  carried  on.  It  is  here  that 
genius  works.  "  Shakespeare's  intellect/'  says  Carlyle, 
"  is  what  I  call  an  unconscious  intellect ;  there  is  more 
virtue  in  it  than  he  himself  is  aware  of.  ...  The  latest 
generations  of  men  will  find  new  meanings  in  Shake- 
speare, new  elucidations  of  their  own  human  being.'' 
"I  prefer,"  says  Goethe,  "that  the  principle  from  which, 
and  through  which,  I  work  should  be  hidden  from  me." 
"  Zerah  Colburn,  the  American  calculating  boy,  on 
being  interrogated  as  to  the  way  in  which  he  obtained 
the  results,  constantly  declared  that  he  did  not  know 
how  the  answers  came  into  his  head." — Dr.  Carpenter. 
"  The  sublimest  works  of  intelligence  are  quite  possible, 
and  may  be  easily  conceived  to  be  executed,  without 
any  consciousness  of  them  on  the  part  of  the  apparent 
and  immediate  agent." — Prof.  Ferrier. 

How  many  thoughts,  how  much  knowledge,  would 
come  into  our  minds  if  we  would  only  let  them — if  we 
would  simply  keep  our  minds  open  to  receive  them ! l 
Unfortunately,  however,  our  minds  are  too  much  pre- 
occupied, are  ever  going  after  other  things,  and  we  are 
unable  to  hear  the  still,  small  voice  within.  "  Were 
man  to  be  without  consciousness,"  says  Prof.  Ferrier, 
"by  reason  of  the  very  absence  of  consciousness,  the 

1  "  Trust  the  instinct  to  the  end,  though  you  can  render  no  reason. 
...  It  shall  ripen  into  truth,  and  you  shall  know  why  you  believe." 
W.  Emerson. 

"  Delicate  omens  traced  in  air 
To  the  lone  bard  true  witness  bare  ; 
Birds  with  auguries  on  their  wings 
Chanted  undeceiving  things 
Him  to  beckon,  him  to  warn  ; 
Well  might  then  the  poet  scorn 
To  learn  of  scribe  or  courier 
Hints  writ  in  vaster  character." 

— Ditto. 


250  MEMORY. 

flood-gates  of  his  being  would  stand  wider  than  before, 
and  let  in  upon  him  stronger  and  deeper  currents  of 
inspiration."  "  It  is  by  spontaneous  and  not  by  reflec- 
tive thought  that  the  mind  attains  its  clearest  and  most 
penetrating  visions  of  things.  .  .  .  Almost  always  there 
is  involved  in  them  the  gathered  wisdom  of  long,  and 
varied,  and  ripened  experience ;  very  often  there  are 
analyses,  more  or  less  refined ;  generalisations  of  a 
narrower  or  wider  scope ;  and  not  unfrequently  ratio- 
cinations passing  so  rapidly,  that  the  processes  are  not 
only  not  analysed,  they  are  not  even  observed." — 
Dr.  M'Cosh. 

The  highest  form  of  memory,  as  of  all  the  mental 
powers,  is  the  unconscious — when  what  we  wish  to 
recall  comes  to  us  spontaneously,  without  any  conscious 
thought  or  search  for  it.  Frequently  when  we  wish  to 
recall  something  that  has  previously  been  in  the  mind 
we  are  unable  to  do  so  by  any  conscious  effort  of  the 
will ;  but  we  turn  the  attention  to  something  else,  and 
after  a  time  the  desired  information  comes  up  spon- 
taneously when  we  are  .not  consciously  thinking  of  it. 
"  There  is  the  working  of  a  mechanism  beneath  the 
consciousness  which,  when  once  set  going,  runs  on  of 
itself,  and  which  is  more  likely  to  evolve  the  desiderated 
result  when  the  conscious  activity  of  the  mind  is 
exerted  in  a  direction  altogether  different."  —  Dr. 
Carpenter. 


CHAPTEE  VII. 

ATTENTION. 

M  Memory  ia  Tery  much  influenced  by  attention,  or  a  full  and  distinct  perception 
of  the  fact  or  object,  with  a  view  to  its  being  remembered."— Dr.  Abercrombie. 

"  It  is  a  matter  of  common  remark  that  the  permanence  of  the  impression,  which 
anything  leaves  on  the  memory,  is  proportioned  to  the  degree  of  attention  which 
was  originally  given  to  it."— D.  Stewart. 

"  The  experiences  most  permanently  impressed  upon  consciousness  are  those 
upon  which  the  greatest  amount  of  attention  has  been  fixed."— D.  O.  Thompson. 

Attention  "is  so  essentially  subservient"  to  memory,  "that  without  some 
degree  of  it  the  ideas  and  perceptions  which  pass  through  the  mind  seem  to  leave 
no  trace  behind  them".— D.  Stewart. 

"  An  act  of  attention,  that  is  an  act  of  concentration,  seems  thus  necessary  to 
every  exertion  of  consciousness,  as  a  certain  contraction  of  the  pupil  is  requisite  to 
every  exertion  of  vision.  .  .  .  Attention,  then,  is  to  consciousness  what  the  contrac- 
tion of  the  pupil  is  to  sight,  or  to  the  eye  of  the  mind  what  the  microscope  or  tele- 
scope is  to  the  bodily  eye.  .  .  It  constitutes  the  better  half  of  all  intellectual 
power."— Sir  W.  Hamilton. 

"  It  is  this,  much  more  than  any  difference  in  the  abstract  power  of  reasoning, 
which  constitutes  the  vast  difference  which  exists  between  miuds  of  different  indi- 
viduals."— Sir  B.  Brodie. 

"The  most  important  intellectual  habit  that  I  know  of  is  "the  habit  of 
attending  exclusively  to  the  matter  in  hand.  ...  It  is  commonly  said  that 
genius  cannot  be  infused  by  education,  yet  this  power  of  concentrated  attention, 
which  belongs  as  a  part  of  his  gift  to  every  great  discoverer,  is  unquestionably 
capable  of  almost  indefinite  augmentation  by  resolute  practice."—  W.  A.  Butler. 

"The  force  wherewith  anything  strikes  the  mind  is  generally  in  proportion  to 
the  degree  of  attention  bestowed  upon  it.  .  The  great  art  of  memory  is  atten- 
tion. .  .  .  Inattentive  people  have  always  bad  memories."— Dr.  /.  Beattie 

A  TTENTION  is  necessary  to  memory.  The  remem- 
jLA.  brance  of  anything  depends  upon  the  clearness 
and  vividness  of  the  impression  originally  made  by  it 
upon  the~*mind,  and  this  on  the  degree  of  attention 
with  which  it  was  regarded.1  It  is  generally  held  by 

1  u  It  is  a  law  of  mind  that  the  intensity  of  the  present  conscious- 
ness determines  the  vivacity  of  the  future  memory  ;  memory  and 
consciousness  are  thus  in  the  direct  ratio  of  each  other.  .  .  .  Vivid 
consciousness,  long  memory  ;  faint  consciousness,  short  memory ;  no 
consciousness,  no  memory*" — Sir  W.  Hamilton. 


252  MEMOET. 

philosophers  that  without  some  degree  of  attention  no 
impression  of  any  duration  could  be  made  on  the  mind 
or  laid  up  in  the  memory.1  \|mpressions  may  be  made 
on  the  senses,  thoughts  may  pass  through  the  mind, 
but  unless  the  attention  is  directed  to  them  they  will 
be  unobserved  */  The  defects  of  memory,  of  which  most 
persons  complain,  are  owing  more  to  want  of  attention 
than  to  any  other  cause.3/  We  remember  what  we 
attend  to,  but  what  we  do  not  attend  to  we  readily  forget. 
Attention  is  the  fixing  of  the  mind  intently  upon  one 
particular  object,  to  the  exclusion  for  the  time  of  all 

1  "  Every  phenomenon  of  consciousness  proper  must  possess  in 
some  degree  the  attributes  of  clearness  and  distinctness  without 
which  it  can  leave  no  trace  in  the  memory,  and  cannot  be  compared 
with  other  phenomena  of  the  same  class ;  and  in  order  to  this  it  ia 
necessary  that  the  phenomenon  in  question  should  have  been  ob- 
served with  some  degree  of  attention." — Dean  Hansel.  "  I  am 
inclined  to  suppose  that  it  is  essential  to  memory  that  the 
perception,  or  the  idea  which  we  would  wish  to  remember,  should 
remain  in  the  mind  for  a  certain  space  of  time,  and  should  be  con- 
templated by  it  exclusively  of  everything  else." — D.  Stewart. 

8  "  It  is  clearly  not  sufficient  that  an  impression  should  be  trans- 
mitted to  the  brain  for  it  to  be  remembered.  An  act  of  the  mind 
itself  is  necessary  for  that  purpose,  and  that  ...  is  attention." — Sir 
B.  Brodie.  "  Place  yourself  in  the  crowded  streets  of  a  city,  a  thou- 
sand objects  of  vision  before  your  eye,  sounds  hardly  less  various 
coming  upon  the  ear,  odours  also  constantly  changing,  contact  or 
collision  at  any  moment  with  some  external  object.  Amidst  this 
multitude  of  physical  objects,  and  with  all  the  organs  of  sense 
seemingly  open,  one  alone  will  be  found  at  each  moment  distinctly 
present  to  the  mind.  ...  Or  let  the  mind  pass  suddenly  by  will  or 
accident  into  a  train  of  inward  thought  .  .  .  and  all  the  external 
objects  thus  crowded  around  you  utterly  disappear,  though  the  phy- 
sical agents  producing,  and  the  organs  receiving,  sensations  remain 
precisely  as  before." — Sir  H.  Holland. 

8  "  It  is  only  a  small  proportion  of  what  we  see,  or  hear,  or  feel, 
or  imagine,  that  is  not  immediately  forgotten,  simply  because  there 
are  very  few  of  these  things  to  which  we  pay  more  than  a  momentary 
attention." — Sir  B,  Brodie.  "  The  habit  of  hasty  and  inexact  obser- 
vation ...  is  necessarily  the  foundation  of  a  habit  of  remembering 
wrongly  ;  and  the  habit  of  remembering  wrongly  is  of  necessity  the 
cause  of  an  incorrect  judgment  and  erroneous  imagination." — Dr. 
£f.  Maudsley. 


ATTENTION.  253 

other  objects  that  solicit  its  notice.  It  is  not,  strictly 
speaking,  a  special  faculty  of  the  mind,  but  is  a  mode 
of  activity  equally  applicable  to  all  its  states.  It  is  a 
particular  form  of  consciousness,  and  acts  altogether 
irrespective  of  the  object  to  which  it  is  applied,  being 
equally  suitable  to  every  occasion  for  which  it  is  re- 
quired. Sir  W.  Hamilton  defines  it  as  "  consciousness 
voluntarily  applied  under  its  law  of  limitations  to  some 
determinate  object  ".  This  law  of  limitations,  he  says, 
is  "that  the  intention  of  our  knowledge  is  in  the  inverse 
ratio  of  its  extension," — in  other  words,  "that  the  greater 
the  number  of  objects  to  which  our  consciousness  is 
simultaneously  extended,  the  smaller  is  the  intensity 
with  which  it  is  able  to  consider  each,  and  consequently 
the  less  vivid  and  distinct  will  be  the  information  it 
obtains  of  the  several  objects.  .  .  .  When  our  interest 
in  any  particular  object  is  excited,  and  when  we  wish 
to  obtain  all  the  knowledge  concerning  it  in  our  power, 
it  behoves  us  to  limit  our  consideration  to  that  object 
to  the  exclusion  of  others." 

The  human  mind  is  single,  and  can  only  be  in  one 
state  or  engaged  in  one  kind  of  activity  at  the  same 
instant  of  time.1  It  can,  however,  pass  with  amazing 
rapidity  from  one  state  or  from  one  form  of  activity  to 

1  "Whether  we  have  the  power  of  attending  to  more  than  one 
thing  at  one  and  the  same  instant?"  The  negative  opinion  "  appears 
to  me  to  be  the  most  reasonable  and  philosophical  that  we  can  form 
on  the  subject". — D.  Stewart.  "  A  plurality  of  stimulations  of  the 
nerves  may  coexist,  but  they  can  affect  the  consciousness  only  by 
turns,  or  one  at  a  time."— Prof.  Bain.  u  It  is  established  by  ex- 
perience that  we  cannot  give  our  attention  to  two  different  objects 
at  the  same  time."—M.Jouffroy.  "  Two  thoughts  or  act-e  of  memory, 
however  closely  related  to  one  another,  cannot  be  presumed  to  exist 
at  the  same  instant, — each  has  its  individuality  in  time." — Sir  H. 
Holland.  "  The  nature  of  our  organism  prevents  our  having  more 
than  one  aspect  of  an  object  at  each  iustant  presented  to  conscious- 
."— G.  H. 


254  MEMOET. 

another,  so  as  to  give  the  impression  that  it  may  be  in 
several  states  or  carry  on  several  operations  at  once, 
but  this  is  simply  owing  to  the  rapidity  with  which  it 
can  pass  from  one  to  another.1  Hence,  when  taken  up 
with  one  object  others  may  present  themselves  to  it 
and  be  unobserved.  Thus,  the  clock  may  strike  in  the 
room  beside  us,  and,  if  the  mind  is  otherwise  engaged, 
we  may  fail  to  perceive  it.2  In  like  manner  wounds 
received  in  the  heat  of  battle  may  be  unfelt  for  a  time, 
owing  to  the  mind  being  otherwise  occupied.3 

When,  on  the  other  hand,  the  attention  is  unengaged 
or  free,  the  lightest  impressions  will  be  perceived;4 
and  it  has  the  power  of  intensifying  or  magnifying  any 
impression  or  thought  to  which  it  may  be  directed.5 
Thus  impressions,  feeble  or  insignificant  in  themselves, 

1  u  The  best  philosophers  are  agreed  that  the  mind  cannot  actually 
attend  to  more  than  one  tning  at  a  time,  but,  when  it  so  appears,  is 
in  reality  shifting  with  prodigious  rapidity  backwards  and  forwards 
from  one  to  the  other." — Arclibp.  Whately.     It  is  "  impossible  that 
the  mind  should  be  engaged  in  two  topics  at  the  same  instant.     The 
expertness  which  seems  to  accomplish  this  feat  is,  in  fact,  a  highly 
developed  power  of  glancing  from  one  subject  to  another  with  great 
rapidity — a  sort  of  mental  trapeze-flying,  wherein  the  performer 
often  gets  an  ugly  fall,  and  may  be  permanently  disabled." — Dr.  M. 
Granville.     "  The  fact  never  to  be  forgotten  is  that  the  human  mind 
can  attend  to  only  one  thing  at  a  time,  although  it  may  shift  the 
attention  very  rapidly,  and  thus  overtake  two  or  more  things  by 
turns." — Prof.  Bain. 

2  "  He  whose  mind  is  intensely  employed  in  any  particular  pur- 
suit, may  have  his  eyes  open  upon  an  object  which  he  sees  not,  or 
he  may  not  hear  the  sound  of  a  clock  striking  within  two  yards  of 
him."— Dr.  G.  Payne. 

3  "  It  is  well  known  that  impressions  fail  to  produce  consciousness 
when  the  mind  is  strongly  pre-engaged.     In  the  heat  of  a  battle 
wounds  may  be  for  a  time  unfelt." — Prof.  Bain. 

4  "  Those  things  are  ...  best  remembered  which  occur  when  th« 
mind  is  at  ease  and  unemployed," — Dr.  J.  Beattie. 

6  "Whatever  be  its  relations  to  the  special  faculties,  attention 
doubles  all  their  efficiency  and  affords  them  a  power  of  which  they 
would  otherwise  be  destitute." — Sir  W.  Hamilton* 


ATTENTION.  255 

may  be  raised  to  even  a  painful  degree  of  acuteness  by 
having  the  attention  strongly  directgji  to  them,  and 
may  thus  occasion  much  suffering.1 'By  concentrating 
the  attention  upon  an  object,  we  not  only  perceive  it 
more  clearly,  but  we  call  forth  the  ideas  that  have  at 
different  times  been  associated  with  it ;  and  at  the  same 
time  all  that  we  hear  or  read  concerning  it  makes  a 
deeper  impression.^  Hence,  if  we  form  in  the  mind  a 
general  idea  of  the  contents  of  a  book  before  reading  it, 
we  grasp  at  different  parts  much  more  readily,  and 
fix  them  in  the  memory  much  better  than  we  could 
otherwise  do.3  It  is  by  means  of  attention  that  one  is 
able  to  listen  to  one  or  other  of  several  persons  speaking 
at  the  same  time,  or  to  one  voice  or  instrument  in  a 
concert  to  the  neglect  of  others.4 

l"A  painful  sensation  becomes  more  intolerable  the  more  the 
attention  is  directed  to  it.  A  sensation,  in  itself  inconsiderable,  as  an 
itching  in  a  very  small  spot  of  the  skin,  is  thus  rendered  very 
troublesome  and  enduring." — Dr.  J.  Miiller.  "If  the  attention  be 
steadily  directed  to  almost  any  part  of  the  surface  of  the  body,  some 
feeling  of  itching,  creeping,  or  tickling  will  soon  be  experienced."— 
Dr.  Carpenter. 

*  "  By  attending  to  an  object  we  give  it  the  opportunity  of  excit- 
ing all  the  ideas  with  which  it  is  associated. " — Jas.  Mill.     "  When 
the  attention  is  strongly  fixed  on  any  particular  subject,  all  that  is 
said  concerning  it  makes  a  deeper  impression  upon  the  mind."— 
Isaac  Watts. 

8  "After  a  rapid  glance  on  the  subject  and  distribution  of  a  new 
book,  I  suspend  the  reading  of  it,  which  I  only  resume  after  having 
myself  examined  the  subject  in  all  its  relations." — E.  Gibbon. 

4  "  Although  many  images  may  be  simultaneously  existing  upon 
the  retina,  the  mind' possesses  the  power  of  singling  out  any  one  of 
them  and  fastening  attention  upon  it,  just  as  among  a  number  <»t' 
musical  instruments  simultaneously  played,  one,  and  that  perhaps 
the  feeblest,  may  be  selected  and  its  notes  exclusively  folluwed."- 
Dr.  Draper.  "  In  a  concert  of  several  voices,  the  voices  being  of 
nearly  equal  intensity,  regarded  merely  as  organic  impressions  on  the 
auditory  nerve,  we  select  one,  and  at  will  we  lift  it  out  and  disjoin 
it  from  the  general  volume  of  sound  ;  we  shut  off  the  other  voices — 
five,  ten,  or  more— and  follow  this  one  alone.  •  When  we  have  dona 


256  MEMOBY. 

The  greater  one's  power  of  attention,  the  longer  and 
more  steadily  he  is  able  to  fix  it  upon  a  .subject,  the 
better  will  he  be  able  to  follow  out  the"  same  train  of 
thought,  and  the  greater  will  be  the  amount  of  success 
attending  his  labours.1  It  is  this  power  of  attention, — 
this  power  of  keeping  a  particular  object  before  the 
mind  till  he  has  thoroughly  mastered  it,  that  more  than 
anything  else  distinguishes  the  man  of  genius  from 
others.  /  Indeed,  it  is  said  that  "possibly  the  most 
comprehensive  definition  of  genius  is  the  power  of  con- 
centrating and  prolonging  the  attention  upon  any  one 
given  subject".  Sir  Isaac  Newton,  in  describing  his 
method  of  study,  said :  "I  keep  the  subject  continually 
before  me,  and  wait  till  the  first  dawning  opens  slowly 
by  little  and  little  into  a  clear  light";  and,  when  com- 
plimented on  his  great  discoveries,  he  modestly  replied, 
"  that  if  he  had  made  any  improvements  in  the  sciences, 
it  was  owing  more  to  patient  attention  than  to  any 
other  talent".  "For  rising  to  eminence  in  any  intel- 
lectual pursuit,"  says  Dr.  Abercrombie,  "  there  is  not  a 
rule  of  more  essential  importance  than  that  of  doing 
one  thing  at  a  time,— avoiding  all  distracting  and 
desultory  occupations, — and  keeping  a  leading  object 
continually  before  the  mind."  "  The  mind  that  pos- 
sesses this  faculty  in  the  greatest  degree  of  perfection 
will  take  cognisance  of  relations  of  which  another  mind 
has  no  perception." — Sir  B.  Brodie. 

On  the  other  hand  there  is  no  more  marked  charac- 

so  for  a  time,  we  freely  cast  it  off  and  take  up  another." — Isaac 
Taylor. 

1  "  The  more  completely  the  mental  energy  can  be  brought  into 
one  focus,  and  all  distracting  objects  excluded,  the  more  powerful 
will  be  the  volitional  effort." — Dr.  Carpenter.  "  The  power  and 
habit  of  thinking  closely  and  continuously  upon  the  subject  in  hand, 
to  the  exclusion  for  the  time  of  all  other  subjects,  is  one  of  the  prin- 
cipal,— if  not  the  principal, — means  of  success." — Sir  J.  Y.  Simpson. 


ATTENTION.  257 

teristic  of  ft  weak  mind  than  that  of  want  of  power  to 
concentrate  the  attention  upon  an  object  for  any  length 
of  time.1  "Imbeciles  and  idiots/'  says  Esquirol,  "  are 
destitute  of  the  faculty  of  attention;"2  and  medical  men 
say  that  "  one  of  the  most  constant  and  characteristic 
symptoms  of  coming  insanity  is  a  debilitated  power  of 
attention.  .  .  .  The  growing  deficiency  of  attention 
points  to  a  coming  imbecility,  and  especially  to  an  im- 
pending attack  of  softening  of  the  brain."* 

It  is  commonly  said  that  in  the  decay  of  our  powers 
through  age  the  memory  is  the  first  faculty  that  fails ; 
but  this  is  not  strictly  correct,  for  it  is  the  power  of 
attention,  on  which  the  memory  depends,  that  is  the 
first  to  deteriorate.  Hence,  it  is  the  most  recent  sub- 
jects,— the  things  of  yesterday  or  last  week, — those  that 
have  not  been  sufficiently  attended  to,  that  are  the  first 
to  disappear.  The  things  of  years  ago  and  of  early  life, 
those  that  have  been  attended  to  and  are  established, 
are  the  last  to  be  forgotten.4 

1  "  The  mind  which  is  deficient  in  concentrative  power  is  lament- 
ably deranged  by  any  kind  of  emotional  excitement  in  the  perfor- 
mance of  any  volitional  effort." — Dr.  Carpenter. 

2  "  They  see  badly,  hear  badly,  feel  badly,  and  their  sensorium  is, 
in  consequence,  in  a  similar  condition  of  sensitive  poverty.     Its  im- 
pressionability for  the  things  of  the  external  world  is  at  a  minimum, 
its  sensibility  weak,  and  consequently  it  is  difficult  to  provoke  the 
condition  of  physiological  erethism  necessary  for  the  absorption  of 
the  external  impression." — J.  Luys. 

3  "  In  all  forms  of  mental  disease  the  faculty  of  attention  becomes 
gradually  weaker,  and  presents,  according  to  the  intensity  of  the 
morbid  process,  different  and  fatally  progressive  modifications." — J. 
Luys. 

4  In  the  natural  decay  of  memory  it  is  observed  that  M  recent 
events  are  retained  with  difficulty  and  soon  forgotten  ;  while  those 
of  older  date  are  easily  and  accurately  recalled.     This  has  been  re- 
ferred, and  rightly  I  believe,  to  the  differing  degree  of  interest,  and 
therefore  of  attention,  which  the  same  objects  excite  in  the  young 
and  in  the  old.     It  would  seem  as  if  the  effort  of  attention  stamped 
characters  upon  the  material  fabric  which  are  deep  and  lasting  in  the 


•258  MEMOBT. 

Seeing,  then,  the  importance  of  attention,  it  is  of  the 
utmost  consequence,  not  only  for  memory  but  for  all 
our  faculties,  that  we  strive  to  improve  and  strengthen 
it  by  every  means  in  our  poweri'  In  order  to  this  it  is 
necessary  to  acquire  the  habit  of  thinking  of,  or  doing, 
only  one  thing  at  a  time.2  There  is  nothing  contributes 
more  to  success  in  any  pursuit  than  that  of  having  the 
attention  concentrated  on  the  matter  in  hand ;  and,  on 
the  contrary,  nothing  is  more  detrimental  than  when 
doing  one  thing  to  have  the  mind  taken  up  with  some- 
thing else.8  We  read  of  one  that  "she  did  things 
easily,  because  she  attended  to  them  in  the  doing. 
When  she  made  bread  she  thought  of  the  bread,  and 
not  of  the  fashion  of  her  next  dress,  or  of  her  partner 
at  the  last  dance."4  One,  when  asked  how  he  found 
time  to  do  so  much,  said  that  it  was  by  always  concen- 
centrating  his  attention  upon  that  which  was  before 
him.  "  There  is  time  enough  for  everything  in  the 
course  of  the  day,"  says  Lord  Chesterfield,  "if  you  do 
but  one  thing  at  once ;  but  there  is  not  time  enough  in 

youthful  brain,  faint  in  advanced  life,  and  often  altogether  effaced  in 
old  age."—  Sir  Thos.  Watson. 

1  "  It  would  form  a  most  valuable  article  in  a  systematical  treatise 
on  education  to  point  out  the  means  by  which  this  habit  of  attention 
may  be  cultivated,  or  the  contrary  habits  of  inattention  corrected 
where  they  have  unfortunately  been  contracted." — D.  Stewart. 

2  "  It  is  a  matter  of  no  small  importance  that  we  acquire  the 
habit  of  doing  only  one  thing  at  a  time ;  by  which  I  mean  that 
while  employed  on  any  one  object,  our  thoughts  ought  not  to 
wander  to  another." — Dr.  J.  Beattie. 

3  "  A  frequent  cause  of  failure  in  the  faculty  of  attention  is 
striving  to  think   of  more  than  one  thing  at  a  time." — Dr.  M. 
Granville. 

4  "  When  we  go  from  home,  or  to  the  fields  for  exercise,  we  should 
leave  all  our  speculations  behind,  otherwise  we  will  fatigue  the  body 
and  distract  the  mind,  and  will  confirm  ourselves  in  those  habits  of 
inattention  which,  when  persisted  in,  form  what  is  called  an  absent 
person."— Dr.  J.  Beattie. 


ATTENTION.  259 

the  year  if  yon  will  do  two  things  at  a  time.'*  Many 
a  clever  man  has  made  shipwreck  of  his  life  by  striving 
to  do  two  things  at  once.  It  is  by  doing  one  thing  at 
a  time  that  we  come  in  time  to  do  many  things.  "  The 
shortest  way/'  says  Lord  Burleigh,  "  to  do  many  things 
is  to  do  one  thing  at  a  time."  It  is  as  one  is  able  to 
shut  out  every  other  object,  every  other  idea,  even  self, 
from  the  mind  that  he  attains  the  highest  degree  of 
mental  power.1  The  actor  or  the  orator,  who  can  so. 
throw  himself  into  his  character  or  subject  as  to  be 
oblivious  of  everything  but  that,  is  the  one  that  is  most 
natural  and  therefore  moves  the  audience  more  power- 
fully.2 Mrs.  Siddons,  we  are  told,  was  wont  to  so  throw 
herself  into  the  character  of  the  person  she  was  repre- 
senting as  to  quite  lose  sight  of  her  own  personality, 
and  to  think  and  act  in  the  character  of  her  heroina* 

It  may  seem  to  militate  against  this  view  that  some- 
times the  mind  appears  to  attend  best  to  a  thing  when 

1  Archbishop  Whately  cured  a  person  of  shyness  by  saying  :  "  You 
are  shy  because  you  are  thinking  of  the  impression  you  are  making. 
Think  only  of  the  pleasure  you  can  give  to  others,  and  not  of  your- 
self." In  speaking  of  bashfulness  he  says :  "  Let  both  the  extem- 
porary speaker  and  the  reader  of  his  own  compositions  study  to  avoid 
as  far  as  possible  all  thoughts  of  self,  earnestly  fixing  the  mind  on 
the  matter  of  what  is  delivered ;  and  the  one  will  feel  the  less  of 
that  embarrassment  which  arises  from  the  thought  of  what  opinion 
the  hearers  will  form  of  him,  while  the  other  will  appear  to  be 
speaking,  because  he  actually  will  be  speaking,  the  sentiments,  not 
indeed  which  at  that  time  first  arise  in  his  own  mind,  but  which  are 
then  really  present  to,  and  occupy,  his  mind  ". 

8  "  If  a  public  speaker  or  tragedian  thinks  of  the  action  which  he 
is  about  to  use  while  he  is  striving  to  feel  what  he  is  uttering,  he  is 
as  likely  as  not  to  give  the  right  action  in  the  wrong  place,  or  the 
wrong  action  in  the  right  place,  or  to  give  the  wrong  action  in  the 
wrong  place." — G.  W.  Smith. 

8  "  Some  of  our  greatest  actors— especially  of  the  female  sex — be- 
come so  completely  engrossed  in  the  *  parts'  they  play  as  to  lose  alto- 
gether for  the  time  the  sense  of  their  own  personality,  and  to  be 
rather  than  act  the  characters  they  have  assumed."— Dr.  Carpenter. 


260  MEMOBY. 

it  has  something  else,  which  does  not  greatly  call  forth 
the  attention,  to  occupy  it  at  the  same  time.  Thus 
some  persons  think  best  on  a  subject  when  their  hands 
are  taken  up  with  something,  or  when  listening  to  a 
piece  of  music  or  a  dull  sermon.1  We  do  not  obtain 
the  highest  form  of  attention  in  this  way,  and  it  is  a 
bad  habife  requiring  to  be  corrected;  but  sometimes  it  is 
well  to  take  advantage  of  it.  We  account  for  it  thus  : 
when  the  attention  is  feeble  or  exhausted,  when  it  can- 
not retain  hold  of  a  thing  for  any  length  of  time,  but  is 
constantly  wandering  off  to  others,  then  it  is  well  that 
something  be  found  for  it  that  will  not  make  great 
demands  upon  it,  on  which  it  may  fall  back  from  time 
to  time,  and  from  which  it  may  return  refreshed  to  the 
principal  subject. 

If  we  would  possess  the  power  of  attention  in  a  high 
degree,  we  must  cultivate  the  habit  of  attending  to  what 
is  directly  before  the  mind,  to  the  exclusion  of  all  else. 
All  distracting  thoughts  and  feelings  that  tend  to  with- 
draw the  mind  from  what  is  immediately  before  it  are 
therefore  to  be  carefully  avoided.2  This  is  a  matter  of 
great  importance,  and  of  no  little  difficulty.  Fre- 
quently the  mind,  in  place  of  being  concentrated  on 
what  is  immediately  before  it,  is  thinking  of  something 
else — something,  it  may  be,  that  went  before  or  that 

1  "  It  is  a  fact,  and  a  very  curious  one,  that  many  people  find  they 
can  best  attend  to  any  serious  matter  when  they  are  occupied  with 
something  else  which  requires  a  little,  and  but  a  little,  attention  ; 
euch  as  working  with  the  needle,  cutting  open  paper  leaves,  or,  for 
want  of  some  such  employment,  fiddling  anyhow  with  the  lingers." 
— Archbp.  Whately. 

8  "  It  is  necessary,  then,  that  one  single  impression  at  a  time  shall 
be  imprinted  upon  the  sensorium,  and  that  moreover  the  elements  of 
the  sensorium  shall  themselves  be  in  a  kind  of  silence  and  relative 
catlm." — J.  Luys.  "There  are  two  great  causes  of  distraction  or 
inattention — external  impressions  and  internal  emotions."— -Wi 
ftofc* 


ATTENTION.  261 

may  come  after,  or  something  quite  alien  to  the  sub- 
ject.1 Sometimes  the  very  anxiety  to  remember  a 
thing  causes  the  forgetting  of  it ;  the  mind,  in  place  of 
simply  receiving  the  impressions  as  they  are  presented 
to  it,  harassing  itself  with  such  questions  as — "  Shall  I 
remember  this?"  "Have  I  forgotten  that?"  "What 
was  said  just  now?"2  Sometimes  the  mind  may  be 
taken  up  with  the  meaning  of  a  word  or  sentence,  to 
the  neglect  of  the  letters  or  words  or  sounds  that  go  to 
make  it  up,  and  which  it  is  desired  to  impress  upon 
the  mind.3  Hence,  in  training  the  mind  to  remember 
words  or  sounds,  it  is  sometimes  desirable  that  the 
words  be  such  as  convey,  or  be  used  in  such  a  way  as 

1  "  While  listening  to  a  sermon  or  lecture,  or  whilst  reading  .  .  . 
our  thoughts  are  apt  to  revert  to  the  ideas  which  preceded,  instead 
of  being  concentrated  upon  the  required  point.     In  public  speaking 
this  ...  is  still  more  distracting,  as  not  only  that  which  has  been 
said,  but  that  which  is  about  to  be  said,  thrusts  itself  forward  and 
effectually  interferes  with  that  which  is  being  said,  and  which  ought 
to  receive  undivided  attention."—  W.  Stokes.    "  A  diffident  but  quick 
reader  or  speaker  not  uncommonly  worries  himself  about  the  pro- 
nunciation of  a  word  some  distance  in  advance  of  him,  and  even  re- 
hearses it  mentally." — Dr.  M.  Granville. 

2  "  The  mind,  instead  of  being  occupied  in  grasping  that  which  is 
wanted,  may  be  soliloquising  thus — '  Dear  me,  I  fear  I  shall  not 
remember  all  this  ;  I  wonder  whether  I  have  forgotten  what  v\a 
said  just  now  !    What  was  it  ?    Let  me  see  1' " — W.  Stokes. 

8  "  In  a  large  class  of  minds  the  faculty  of  apprehension  is  deve- 
loped, as  it  were,  at  the  cost  of  that  of  mental  registering  or  memory  ; 
the  force  of  the  intellect  being  expended  in  understanding,  while  tin- 
storing  of  impressions  is  left  to  chance,  which  generally  means  that 
it  is  neglected.  ...  A  man  may  concentrate  his  attention  and  brin<.r 
his  reasoning  faculties  to  bear  on  a  subject  of  study,  mastering  its 
details  and  obtaining  a  clear  comprehension  of  the  whole,  while  he 
is  not  registering  any  impression  to  form  the  basis  of  a  memory."— 
Dr.  M.  Granville.  "  The  effect  of  etymological  knowledge  concerning 
the  origin  and  the  changes  in  meaning  of  a  perfectly  intelligiMt 
word,  where  such  knowledge  is  awakened  in  our  minds  at  the  sight 
or  on  the  utterance  of  the  word,  ...  is  undoubtedly  to  divide  the 
attention  between  the  present  and  the  past  significations,  whence  in 
the  rapidity  of  discourse  vacillation  and  confusion  are  naturally  apt 
to  arise." — S.  Bailey. 
19 


262  MEMOBY. 

to  convey,  no  meaning  by  which  the  attention  may  be 
distracted.1 

De  Quincey  gives  a  very  striking  instance  of  the  way 
in  which  the  understanding  sometimes  steps  in  and 
perverts  impressions  received  by  sense,  in  the  case  of  a 
man  ignorant  of  perspective  attempting  to  draw  ai 
object  depending  on  the  laws  of  that  science.  "H& 
will  be  utterly  unable,"  he  says,  "  to  make  the  smallest 
approximation  to  it.  Yet  why  ?  For  he  has  actually 
seen  the  effect  every  day  in  his  life.  The  reason  is  that 
he  allows  his  understanding  to  overrule  his  eyes  .  .  s 
for  not  only  does  the  man  believe  the  evidence  of  his 
understanding  in  opposition  to  that  of  his  eyes,  but  the 
idiot  is  not  aware  that  his  eyes  ever  gave  him  such  evi- 
dence. He  does  not  know  that  he  has  seen  that  which 
he  has  seen  every  day  of  his  life." 

Further,  almost  every  object  presented  to  the  mind 
is  compound,  made  up  of  several  parts,  so  that  if  we 
would  obtain  a  clear  and  accurate  impression  of  the 
whole  or  of  any  of  its  parts,  it  is  necessary  to  bring 
each  part  individually  before  the  mind  by  itself.  Thus 
an  apple  presents  to  us  form,  colour,  taste,  smell,  &c. ; 
and  if  we  would  obtain  a  clear  idea  of  any  one  of  these, 
we  must  contemplate  it  by  itself  and  compare  it  with 
other  impressions  of  the  same  kind  that  we  have  pre- 
viously experienced.  So  in  viewing  a  landscape,  it  is 
not  enough  to  regard  it  merely  as  a  whole,  but  we  must 
regard  each  of  its  different  parts  individually  by  itself  if 
we  would  have  a  clear  idea  of  it.  We  can  only  obtain 
a  full  and  complete  knowledge  of  an  object  by  analysing 

1  w  Unconnected  words  form  the  very  best  material  for  inflective 
exercise." — A.  M.  Bell.  "The  language  memory  .  .  .  carries  a 
great  many  things  in  the  unmeaning  state  ;  and  the  more  we  are 
endowed  with  it  the  farther  we  can  go  in  dispensing  with  the  full 
comprehension  ot  what  we  are  laying  up." — Prof.  Bain. 


ATTENTION.  263 

it  and  concentrating  the  attention  upon  its  different 
partb  one  by  one.  "  It  is  not,"  says  Dr.  T.  Reid,  "  by 
the  senses  immediately,  but  rather  by  the  power  of  ana- 
lysing and  abstraction,  that  we  get  the  most  simple  and 
the  most  distinct  notions  even  of  objects  of  sense." 
Still  more  is  this  true  with  regard  to  our  intellectual 
ideas.  "  It  is  scarcely  possible/'  says  Dr.  T.  Brown, 
"  to  advance  even  a  single  step  in  intellectual  physics 
without  the  necessity  of  performing  some  sort  of 
analysis." 

In  the  acquisition  of  any  particular  set  of  movements 
we  do  so  best  and  most  readily  by  analysing  them,  and 
bringing  the  attention  to  bear  upon  them  one  by  one.1 
In  the  simple  process  of  walking  we  have  three  distinct 
movements.  "  The  heel  of  the  foot  extended  first 
touches  the  ground,  then  the  sole  just  as  the  heel  oi 
the  other  foot  begins  to  leave  the  ground,  and  last  of 
all  the  pupil  rises  upon  the  ball  of  his  toes."  These 
three  movements  performed  in  turn  by  both  feet  con- 
stitute walking,  and  by  directing  attention  to  each  of 
these  movements  in  turn  one  will  soon  learn  to  walk 
easily  and  well.2  It  is  not  the  length  of  time  that  one 
may  be  engaged  in  any  exercise,  nor  the  frequency  with 

1 "  In  our  mechanical  education  complex  and  difficult  actions  are 
acquired  by  taking  the  simple  acts  separately.  We  learn  part  No.  1 
by  itself ;  then  part  No.  2,  No.  3,  and  so  on  ;  and  if  each  of  these 
parts  be  so  firmly  acquired  as  to  be  maintained  without  any  exercise 
of  the  attention,  there  will  be  no  new  labour  in  performing  tlu-m 
together." — Prof.  Bain.  "  Man  can  readily  acquire  surprising  kinds 
of  dexterity  if  he  confines  his  attention  to  their  acquisition.  Spe- 
cialisation is  the  mother  of  proficiency." — Dr.  E.  llcring. 

3  In  training  recruits  to  use  the  rifle  they  are  first  made  to  tal<e 
sights  with  the  musket  laid  on  a  rest.  They* are  afterwards  taught, 
one  by  one,  the  different  movements  connected  with  firing,  close 
attention  being  paid  to  each  ;  and  they  practise  blank  firing  for  sonio 
time,  so  w  to  get  accustomed  to  the  report  and  recoil  before 
ball. 


264  MEMOBY. 

which  he  may  practise  it,  but  it  is  the  amount  of  atten- 
tion that  is  bestowed  upon  it  that  constitutes  its  advan- 
tage.1 In  this,  as  in  other  things,  "  a  month  of  training 
is  worth  years  of  practice". 

In  teaching  any  subject,  then,  we  should  seek  to 
reduce  it  to  its  simplest  parts,  and  bring  the  mind  to 
concentrate  its  energies  upon  them  one  by  one.2  The 
more  minute  and  simple  the  object  to  which  the  atten- 
tion is  directed,  the  clearer  and  more  vivid  will  be  the 
impression  formed  of  it  in  the  mind.8  It  is  in  learning 
as  in  war :  the  more  we  divide  our  foes  the  more  easily 
do  we  conquer  them.  In  this  way  much  time  and 
labour  will  be  saved  to  the  pupil,  and  greater  accuracy 
secured.  The  more  complicated  and  difficult  the  sub- 
ject, the  greater  will  be  the  advantages  to  be  derived 
from  this  mode  of  procedure.  (See  Chapter  IX.) 

It  is  on  this  principle  that  the  advantages  arising 
from  "  division  of  labour  "  depend.  As  is  well  known, 
the  same  number  of  men  will  produce  a  much  greater 
amount  of  work  in  a  given  time  by  each  one  confining 
his  attention  to  a  certain  part  of  the  process  than  by 

1  Horatio  Ross,  a  great  authority  on  shooting,  says  that  20  shots 
a  day  fired  carefully  and  the  results  noted  are  better  than  100,  from 
the  fact  that  one  could  not  bestow  the  same  care  and  attention  on 
the  100  as  on  the  20. 

2  "  In  matters  of  education  .  .  .  where  different  subjects  have  to 
be  mastered,  or  where  numerous  details  have  to  be  impressed  on  the 
memory,  concentration  on  one  exercise  for  a  certain  time  is  indis- 
pensable ;  and  in  those  subjects  that  proceed  on  a  double  line  the 
attention  should  be  sustained  in  one  of  the  two  directions,  instead  ol 
flitting  between  both." — Prof.  Bain.     "  One  of  the  chief  results  "  ol 
education  "  is  that  it  exercises  us  in  the  habit  of  thinking  of  one 
thing  at  a  time,  of  thinking  therefore  without  cor  Vision,  and  of 
arriving  at  conclusions  with  precision  and  decision". — Dr.  Draper. 

1  "  In  learning  any  new  thing  there  should  be  as  little  as  possible 
first  proposed  to  the  mind  at  once,  and  that  being  understood  and 
fully  mastered,  proceed  then  to  the  next  adjoining  part  then  un« 
known," — Isaac  Watts. 


ATTENTION.  265 

each  carrying  out  the  whole.  Pin  making  and  steel-pen 
making  are  well-known  instances  of  this  (p.  83).  The 
reason  is  that,  the  attention  being  thus  confined  to  only 
a  small  part  of  the  process,  the  muscles  employed 
acquire  increased  dexterity,  and  can  continue  longer  in 
action  without  suffering  from  fatigue.  In  addition  to 
this,  there  is  always  a  considerable  amount  of  time 
wasted  in  passing  from  one  form  of  activity  to  another. 
When  the  attention  has  been  for  some  time  engaged 
upon  a  particular  occupation,  it  cannot  at  once  with  full 
effect  pass  to  a  different  one.1  It  can,  however,  pass 
more  readily  from  one  form  of  activity  to  another  of 
the  same  kind  than  from  one  to  another  of  different 
kinds.  Thus  it  passes  more  readily  from  one  object  of 
sight  to  another,  or  from  one  sound  to  another,  than 
from  a  sight  to  a  sound  or  a  sound  to  a  sight.  After  a 
flash  of  light  we  more  readily  apprehend  another  flash 
than  a  sound  or  any  other  sensation.  It  has  been 
proved  by  experiment  that  if  we  are  led  to  expect  a 
particular  kind  of  sensation,  the  mind  apprehends  it 
more  readily  than  if  left  in  doubt  as  to  what  the  kind 
of  sensation  is  to  be.2  This  will  be  readily  understood 

1  "  When  the  human  hand  or  human  head  has  been  for  some  time 
occupied  in  any  kind  of  work  it  cannot  instantly  change  its  employ- 
ment with  full  effect.  ...  A  similar  result  seems  to  take  place  in 
any  change  of  mental  exertion  ;  the  attention  bestowed  on  the  new 
subject  not  being  so  perfect  at  first  as  it  becomes  after  some  exercise." 
— G.  Babbage. 

*  This  is  proved  among  others  by  the  experiments  of  MM.  Bon- 
ders and  De  Jaager  : — "  One  of  them  pronounced  a  syllable  ;  the 
other  repeated  it  as  soon  as  he  heard  ic.  .  .  .  When  the  repeated 
syllable  had  been  agreed  on  beforehand  the  difference  observed  was 
two- tenths  of  a  second  ;  in  the  other  case  it  was  three- tenths.  Ana- 
logous results  were  obtained  by  an  observer  noting  the  appearance  of 
a  white  or  red  light,  and  being  in  turn  informed  and  not  informed 
which  would  be  shown.  .  .  .  M.  de  Jaager  told  the  person  on  whom 
he  was  experimenting  to  touch  the  key  of  the  electric  machine  with 
his  left  hand  when  he  received  the  shock  on  his  right  side,  and 


266  MEMOBY. 

when  we  consifler  that  the  human  min3  is  single,  and 
can  only  be  in  one  place  or  engaged  in  one  form  of 
activity  at  the  same  instant  of  time,  and  that  each  of 
the  different  faculties  has  its  distinct  seat. 

The  principle  of  "division  of  labour"  holds  equally 
true  in  intellectual  as  in  manual  or  bodily  occupations. 
Thus,  if  one  has  occasion  to  write  on  any  subject,  he 
will  do  so  most  satisfactorily  by  first  thinking  out  his 
subject  thoroughly  before  attempting  to  clothe  it  in 
language ;  and  when  this  is  once  done  he  will  then  be 
able  to  give  all  his  attention  to  the  selection  of  the 
best  modes  of  expression.  It  is  said  of  the  late  eloquent 
preacher,  Dr.  Chalmers,  that  "  he  never  had  the  double 
task  to  do  at  once  of  thinking  what  he  should  say  and 
how  he  should  say  it.  The  one  was  over  before  the 
other  commenced.  .  .  .  When  engaged,  therefore,  in 
writing  his  whole  undivided  attention  was  given  to  the 
best  and  most  powerful  expression  of  preconceived 
ideas." 

With  every  act  of  attention  there  is  a  corresponding 
physical  change  in  the  parts  of  the  body  directly  con- 
cerned in  it.1  In  particular  it  produces  a  certain  amount 

with  his  right  hand  when  he  received  the  shock  on  his  left  side.  .  .  . 
Sometimes  the  person  was  told  beforehand  that  the  shock  would  be 
received  on  a  particular  side,  the  right  for  instance  ;  in  this  case  the 
interval  between  the  shock  he  received  and  the  consecutive  signal  he 
gave  amounted  to  *2  of  a  second.  Sometimes  he  was  not  told  on 
what  side  he  would  receive  the  shock  ...  in  this  case  the  interval 
between  the  shock  he  received  and  the  consecutive  signal  he  gave 
amounted  to  -27  of  a  second." — H.  Taine. 

1  "  Physiologically,  attention  consists  of  two  processes,  each  dis- 
tinct, yet  mutually  dependent.  First,  the  organs  of  special  sense  by 
which  the  vague  impressions  are  received  are  put  into  such  a  vital 
condition  that  the  influence  of  the  impressions  upon  the  recipient 
nerves  is  intensified.  .  .  .  This  occurs  when  we  try  to  smell,  to 
taste,  to  hear,  to  feel  by  touch  more  distinctly.  .  .  .  Secondly,  the 
nerves  by  which  the  impressions  are  received,  and  the  corresponding 
ganglia  to  which  they  are  conveyed,  are  at  the  same  time  so  modified 


ATTENTION.  267 

of  waste  which  calls  for  an  additional  snpply  of  blood 
to  compensate  for  the  loss  thereby  sustained.1  Hence 
whatever  interferes  with  a  due  supply  of  blood  to  the 
parts — as  physical  weakness  or  exhaustion,  or  the  mind 
being  taken  up  with  something  else — impairs  the  act  of 
attention.2  In  this  way  we  can  understand  how  it  is 
that  if  the  attention  be  strongly  directed  to  any  part  or 
organ  of  the  body  congestion  and  disease  may  be  pro- 
duced in  it.8  A  person  imagining  that  he  is  suffering 
from  disease  of  the  heart,  and  frequently  directing  his 
attention  to  the  movements  of  that  organ,  may  produce 
I  disease  there  where  originally  there  was  none ;  and,  in 

in  function  that  they  also  become  more  susceptible  of  the  influence 
of  the  impressions  thus  more  determinately  received  in  consequence 
of  the  volitional  act." — Dr.  Laycock. 

1  It  is  at  the  expense  of  its  substance  that  it  (the  cerebral  cell) 
produces  movement,  vibrates,  enters  into  erethism,  and  becomes 
attentive." — J.  Luys. 

2  "  A  certain  expenditure  of  nervous  power  is  involved  in  every 
.  .  .  act  of  impressing  the  memory  .  .  .  and  the  more  the  better. 
This  supposes,  however,  that  we  should  withdraw  the  forces  for  a 
time  from  every  other  competing  exercise,  and  especially  that  we 
should  redeem  all  wasting  expenditure  for  the  purpose  in  view." — 
Prof.  Bain. 

8  "  The  continuous  direction  of  the  attention  to  vital  tissues  ima- 
gined to  be  in  an  unhealthy  state  undoubtedly  causes  an  exaltation 
of  their  special  functions  and  an  increase  of  sensibility,  by  (it  may 
be  presumed)  diverging  to  them  an  abnormal  quantity  of  blood,  this 
being  followed  consecutively  by — (1)  undue  vascular  action,  (2)  capil- 
lary congestion,  (3)  an  excess  in  the  evolution  of  nerve  force,  and  (4) 
appreciable  structural  alterations." — Dr.  Forbes  Window.  "When 
the  attention  is  directed  to  any  portion  of  the  body,  innervation  and 
circulation  are  excited  locally,  and  the  functional  activity  of  that 
portion  developed.  This  is  well  shown  in  the  common  forme  of 
hypochondriasis,  in  which  the  patient  being  morbidly  anxious  as  to 
the  state  of  some  particular  organ— e.g.,  the  heart— constantly  directs 
his  attention  to  it,  and  thus  functional  disorder,  and  even  structural 
disease,  are  caused." — Dr.  Laycock.  "There  can  be  no  doubt  that 
real  disease  often  supervenes  upon  fancied  ailment,  especially  through 
the  indulgence  of  what  is  known  as  the  hypochonariacal  tendency 
to  dwell  upon  uneasy  sensations  ;  these  sensations  being 
in  many  instances  purely  subjective,"— Dr. 


268  MEMORY. 

like  manner,  we  are  told  that  "the  idea  that  a  struc- 
tural defect  will  certainly  be  removed  by  a  certain  act 
increases  the  organic  action  of  the  part,  and  sometimes 
produces  a  cure". — Dr.  J.  Muller. 

The  effect  on  the  body  of  concentrating  the  attention 
on  any  particular  operation  is  to  confine  its  activity  to 
certain  channels  and  to  withdraw  it  from  others.1  It 
is,  as  we  have  said,  characteristic  of  all  untrained  ac- 
tivity that  it  is  diffuse,  more  parts  being  brought  into 
action  than  are  necessary  to  effect  the  required  result.2 
The  effect  of  training  and  attention  is  more  and  more 
to  confine  the  activity  to  special  channels,  so  that  the 
actions  themselves  are  better  performed,  and  can  be 
kept  up  longer  without  producing  fatigue.  All  progress 
in  animal  bodies  proceeds  by  differentiation.  Certain 
organs  at  first  perform  a  number  of  different  functions, 
but  by  degrees  they  differentiate,  parts  of  them  appro- 
priating to  themselves  certain  of  the  functions,  and 

1  "  Now  the  only  view  that  we  can  take  of  the  physical  machinery 
of  those  actions  is  to  suppose  that  the  originally  diffused  wave  that 
accompanied  them  has  become  contracted  within  some  narrow  circles 
of  the  brain  which  just  suffice  for  the  bare  performance  of  the  opera- 
tions implied  in  them." — Prof.  Bain. 

2  "  An  awkward  person  in  performing  one  voluntary  movement 
makes  many  others,  which  are  produced  involuntarily  by  consensual 
nervous  action.     It  is  only  by  education  that  we  acquire  the  power 
of  confining  the  influence  of  volition  in  the  production  of  voluntary 
motions  to  a  certain  number  of  nervous  fibres  issuing  from  the 
brain." — Dr.  J.  Muller.     "  In  our  first  attempts  to  write,  to  cipher, 
to  play  on  an  instrument,  to  speak,  or  in  any  other  work  of  mecha- 
nical skill,  the  inward  sense  of  labour  and  difficulty  is  corresponded 
to  by  the  number  of  awkward  and  irrelevant  gesticulations.    On  the 
other  hand,  in  the  last  stage  of  consummated  facility  and  routine 
the  consciousness  is  almost  nothing  ;  and  the  general  quietude  of  the 
body  demonstrates  that  the  course  of  power  has  now  become  nar- 
rowed to  the  one  channel  necessary  for  the  exact  movements  re- 
quired. .  .  .  The  tendency  of  all  nervous  states"  is  "  by  repetition 
to  narrow  their  compass  of  action  and  to  run  into  special  channels  of 
connection  with  the  states  that  happen  to  succeed  them,  substituting 
intellectual  trains  for  emotional  outbursts". — Prof.  Bain. 


ATTENTION.  269 

other  parts  other  functions.  Thus  the  spheres  of  their 
activities  become  narrowed,  fewer  cells  and  fibres  are 
called  into  play  in  the  performance  of  any  particular 
operation,  which  comes  thereby  to  be  more  efficiently 
performed  in  consequence  of  the  attention  being  more 
concentrated  upon  it. 

The  effect  of  attention  upon  our  physical  organs  is 
very  remarkable.  We  all  know  the  difference  between 
a  thing  happening  to  us  unexpectedly — as  the  foot  slip- 
ping by  accident — and  when  we  are  on  the  outlook  for 
it.  "  "We  have  all  experienced,"  says  Sir  Charles  Bell, 
"  the  difference  between  a  blow  unexpectedly  received 
and  one  received  when  on  our  guard.  Even  on  the 
same  part  of  the  body  the  effect  will  be  very  different. 
Boxers  receive  the  hardest  blows  without  injury.  In 
consequence  of  the  state  of  preparation  in  which  they 
hold  themselves  when  about  to  receive  a  blow,  and  the 
habit  of  sudden  and  powerful  exertion  of  the  muscles, 
the  opponent's  fist  is  repelled  as  from  a  board.  .  .  . 
Thus  we  can  explain  the  feat  sometimes  performed  of 
breaking  a  poker  over  the  arm,  by  which  without  a 
strong  action  and  preparation  of  the  muscles  the  arm 
bone  would  probably  be  fractured  and  the  flesh  bruised." 
In  feats  of  dexterity  and  skill,  in  like  manner,  everything 
depends  upon  having  the  attention  fully  concentrated 
upon  the  parts  immediately  concerned.  It  would  seem 
as  if  the  mind  itself  in  the  act  of  attention  passed  into 
these  parts,  and  was  the  moving,  guiding,  and  sus- 
taining spirit  therein,  or,  in  the  words  of  Prof.  Cleland 
already  quoted,  that  it  M  works  in  connection  with  as 
much  of  the  nervous  system  as  is  at  any  one  time 
united  to  the  brain  by  nerve  channels  in  an  active 
state  ".  This  seems  at  least  as  probable  as  the  received 
opinion  that  the  mind  has  its  seat  only  in  the  distant 


270  MEMORY. 

brain,  from  which  it  goeth  not  out,  but  directeth  there- 
from all  the  movements  of  the  body  (p.  149  et  seq.). 

The  attention,  like  any  other  power  or  iaculty  of  the 
mind,  comes  through  practice  to  act  in  a  great  measure 
unconsciously.  When  thinking  on  a  subject  it  will  no 
longer  be  necessary  as  at  first  to  exclude  every  other 
subject  from  the  mind,  for  the  mind  will  do  this  of 
itself ;  nor,  when  it  is  necessary  to  analyse  a  subject 
and  to  concentrate  the  attention  upon  its  different  parts 
separately,  will  any  great  conscious  effort  be  involved, 
for  it  will  be  done  so  naturally  and  expeditiously  that 
the  mind  will  be  but  little,  if  at  all,  conscious  of  it. 


CHAPTEE 

ASSOCIATION  OF  IDEAS. 

"  Next  to  the  effect  of  attention  is  the  remarkable  influence  prodnoed  upon 
memory  by  association."— Dr.  Abercrombie. 

"  The  recording  power  (of  memory)  mainly  depends  upon  the  degree  of  attention 
we  give  ...  to  the  idea  to  be  remembered.  .  .  .  The  reproducing  power  again 
altogether  depends  upon  the  nature  of  the  associations  by  which  the  new  idea  has 
been  linked  on  to  other  ideas  which  have  been  previously  recorded." — Dr.  Carpenter. 

"The  connection  between  memory  and  the  association  of  ideas  is  so  striking 
that  it  has  been  supposed  by  some  that  the  whole  of  its  phenomena  might  be  re- 
solved into  this  principle.  .  .  .  The  association  of  ideas  connects  our  various 
thoughts  with  each  other,  so  as  to  present  them  to  the  mind  in  a  certain  order ;  but 
It  presupposes  the  existence  of  these  thoughts  in  the  mind,— or,  in  other  words,  it 
presupposes  a  faculty  of  retaining  the  knowledge  which  we  acquire.  ...  On  the 
other  hand  it  is  evident  that  without  the  associating  principle  the  power  of  retain- 
ing our  thoughts,  and  of  recognising  them  when  they  occur  to  us,  would  have  been 
of  little  use ;  for  the  most  important  articles  of  our  knowledge  might  have  remained 
latent  in  the  mind,  even  when  those  occasions  presented  themselves  to  which  they 
were  immediately  applicable." — Dugald  Stewart. 

"  The  most  fundamental  law  which  regulates  psychological  phenomena  is  the 
law  of  association.  In  its  comprehensive  character  it  is  comparable  to  the  law  of 
attraction  in  the  physical  world." — Th.  Ribot. 

* '  That  which  the  law  of  gravitation  is  to  astronomy,  that  which  the  elementary 
properties  of  the  tissues  are  to  physiology,  the  law  of  the  association  of  ideas  is  to 
psychology." — J.  S.  Mill. 

"  The  habit  of  correct  association  ...  Is  one  of  the  principal  means  of  improv- 
ing the  memory,  particularly  that  kind  of  memory  which  is  an  essential  quality  of  a 
cultivated  mind— namely,  that  which  is  founded  not  upon  incidental  connections 
but  on  true  and  important  relations."— Dr.  Abercrombie. 

"  Every  case  of  forgetfulness  is  a  case  of  weakened  or  extinct  association."— 
Jos.  Mill. 

IN  order  to  impress  a  thing  upon  the  memory  it  is 
necessary,  as  we  have  seen,  to  regard  it  apart  from 
other  things,  and  to  concentrate  the  attention  upon  it 
by  itself.  In  order,  however,  that  what  is  in  the 
memory  may  be  recalled  or  brought  again  before  con- 
sciousness, it  is  necessary  that  it  be  regarded  in  con- 
nection, or  in  association,  with  one  or  more  other  things 


'272  MEMORY, 

or  ideas,1  and,  as  a  rule,  the  greater  the  number  of 
other  things  with  which  it  is  associated  the  greater  the 
likelihood  of  its  recall.2  The  two  processes  are  involved 
in  every  act  of  memory.  We  must  first  impress,  and 
then  we  must  associate.  Without  a  clear  impression 
being  formed,  that  which  is  recalled  will  be  indistinct 
and  inaccurate,  and  unless  it  is  associated  with  some- 
thing else  in  the  mind  it  cannot  be  recalled.  If  we 
may  suppose  an  idea  existing  in  the  mind  by  itself  un- 
connected with  any  other  idea,  its  recall  would  be  im- 
possible. In  this  way  we  account  for  those  states  of 
double  consciousness,  in  which  an  individual  appears  to 
exist  in  two  distinct  states  of  mind, — having  no  recol- 
lection in  the  one  state  of  what  he  thought  or  did  in 
the  other.8  The  transition  from  the  one  state  to  the 

1  "  The  principle  of  association  is  founded  upon  a  remarkable 
tendency  by  which  two  or  more  facts,  or  conceptions  which  have 
been  contemplated  together,  or  in  immediate  succession,  become  so 
connected  in  the  mind  that  one  of  them  at  a  future  time  recalls  the 
others." — Dr.  Abercrombie. 

2  "  Although  the  single  relations  established  between  ideas  .  .  . 
may  suffice  for  their  mutual  Connection,  yet  that  connection  becomes 
much  stronger  when  two  or  more  such  relations  exist  consentane- 
ously."— Dr.  W.  B.  Carpenter.     "Associations  that  are  individually 
too  weak  to  operate  the  revival  of  a  past  idea  may  succeed  by  acting 
together." — Prof.  Bain. 

s  What  is  called  double  consciousness  "  consists  in  an  individual 
recollecting,  during  a  paroxysm,  circumstances  which  occurred  in  a 
former  attack,  though  there  was  no  remembrance  of  them  during  the 
interval". — Dr.  Abercrombie.  "  If  two  groups  (of  ideas)  are  distinctly 
severed,  so  that  no  element  of  the  one  calls  up  any  element  of  the 
other,  we  shall  have  .  .  .  two  moral  personalities  in  the  same  indi- 
vidual."— H.  Taine.  "  It  is  the  peculiarity  of  somnambulism  .  .  . 
that  we  have  no  recollection  when  we  awake  of  what  has  occurred 
during  its  continuance.  Consciousness  is  thus  cut  in  two  ;  memory 
does  not  connect  the  train  of  consciousness  in  the  one  state  with  the 
train  of  consciousness  in  the  other.  When  the  patient  again  relapses 
into  the  state  of  somnambulism  he  again  remembers  all  that  had 
oecurred  during  every  former  alternative  of  that  state." — Sir  W 
Hamilton. 


ASSOCIATION  OF  IDEAS.  273 

other  would  appear  to  be  so  abrupt  and  complete  that 
there  is  no  link  of  association  to  connect  them.  We 
often  fail  to  recall  a  past  idea  through  the  links  of 
association  being  too  feeble  to  bring  it  up  before  the 
mind.1 

When  once  an  idea  is  clearly  impressed  upon  the 
mind,  we  can  readily  associate  it  with  other  ideas 
however  dissimilar,  but  to  seek  to  associate  it  with 
others  before  it  is  clearly  impressed,  or  to  attempt  to 
carry  out  the  two  processes  at  once,  is  contrary  to  the 
principles  on  which  the  mind  acts,  as  explained  in  the 
last  chapter. 

The  two  leading  principles  or  laws  on  which  asso- 
ciations are  formed  are  contiguity  and  similarity.* 
Every  sensation  or  thought  that  enters  the  mind  is 
connected  with  the  sensation  or  thought  that  imme- 
diately preceded  it,  and  is  in  like  manner  connected 
with  that  which  directly  follows  it.  This  is  association 
by  contiguity.  Besides  this  a  present  sensation  or 
thought  in  the  mind  may  recall  previous  sensations  or 
thoughts  of  a  like  kind,  and  become  associated  with 
them.  This  is  association  by  similarity. 

The  great  law  of  mental  association  is  that  of  con- 
tiguity, by  means  of  which  sensations  or  ideas  that 
have  been  in  the  mind  together  or  in  close  succession, 
tend  to  unite  together,  or  cohere  in  such  a  way  that  the 

1  "  Numerous  links  of  association  are  so  feeble  that  they  an 
speedily  snapped  like  threads,  and  when  the  mind  tries  to  return  to 
them  it  finds  the  line  of  continuity  broken  and  the  recovery  of  the 
lost  ideas  hopeless." — Anon.     "  There  are  things  of  which  I  have 
entirely  lost    the   recollection,  .  .  .  the    associations    which    were 
formed  between  the  ideas  of  them  are  so  completely  dissolved  that 
none  of  my  present  ideas  has  the  power  of  exciting  them." — Ja$. 
Mill. 

2  "  The  two  principal  facts  which  serve  as  the  basis  of  association 
are  resemblance  and  contiguity."— 17*.  Ribot. 


274  MEMORY. 

one  can  afterwards  recall  the  other.1  The  connection 
that  naturally  subsists  between  a  sensation  or  idea  in 
the  mind,  and  that  which  immediately  preceded  or 
followed  it,  is  of  the  strongest  and  most  intimate 
nature.  The  two,  strictly  speaking,  are  but  one,  form- 
ing one  complete  thought.  "  To  speak  correctly,"  says 
H.  Taine,  "  there  is  no  isolated  or  separate  sensation. 
A  sensation  is  a  state  which  begins  as  a  continuation  of 
preceding  ones,  and  ends  by  losing  itself  in  those  fol- 
lowing it ;  it  is  by  an  arbitrary  severing,  and  for  the 
convenience  of  language,  that  we  set  it  apart  as  we  do ; 
its  beginning  is  the  end  of  another,  and  its  ending  the 
beginning  of  another/'2  "When  we  read  or  hear  a 
sentence  for  example,"  says  Th.  Eibot,  "  at  the  com- 
mencement of  the  fifth  word,  something  of  the  fourth 
word  still  remains.  Each  state  of  consciousness  is  only 
progressively  effaced;  it  leaves  an  evanescent  trace, 
similar  to  that  which,  in  the  physiology  of  sight,  is 
called  an  after-sensation.  Hence  the  fourth  and  fifth 
words  are  in  contiguity,  and  the  end  of  the  one  impinges 
upon  the  beginning  of  the  other.  That  is  the  impor- 
tant fact.  There  is  not  an  indeterminate  contiguity  of 
two  somethings,  but  the  initial  point  of  one  actual  state 
touches  the  final  point  of  the  anterior  state.*' 

Contiguity  is  of  two  kinds — successive  and  synchro- 


1  u  The  connection  which  is  formed  in  the  mind  between  the 
words  of  a  language  and  the  ideas  they  denote  ;  the  connection 
which  is  formed  between  the  different  words  of  a  discourse  we  have 
committed  to  memory ;  the  connection  between  the  different  notes 
of  a  piece  of  music  in  the  mind  of  the  musician,  are  all  obvious  in- 
stances of  the  general  law  of  our  nature.*' — Sir  W.  Hamilton. 

2 "  The  impression  A.  (having  previously  been  many  times 
followed  by  B)  must  lean  in  its  vibration  towards  B.  Thus,  the 
latter  part  of  A  will  be  modified  and  altered  by  B,  at  the  same  time 
that  it  will  a  little  modify  or  alter  it,  till  at  last  it  be  quite  over* 
powered  by  it  and  end  in  it." — D.  Hartley. 


ASSOCIATION  OF  IDEAS.  273 

nous,  or  contiguity  in  time  and  contiguity  in  space.1 
In  the  former  the  one  impression  occurs  after  the  other, 
and  when  recalled  they  come  up  in  the  same  order,  the 
one  recalling  the  next  in  succession  to  it.  Thus,  the 
first  suggests  the  second,  and  the  second  the  third,  and 
so  on.  We  cannot  reverse  the  order,  or  proceed  from 
the  third  to  the  second  and  the  second  to  the  first 
without  great  difficulty,  if  at  all,  unless  we  have  prac- 
tised it.2  Thus,  it  is  easy  to  repeat  the  alphabet  in  the 
order  in  which  we  have  learnt  it,  but  it  will  be  found  to 
be  extremely  difficult  to  repeat  it  in  the  reverse  order, 
beginning  at  the  end.  Sermo  may  recall  speech,  and 
speech  sermo,  because  they  have  been  presented  to  the 
mind  in  both  ways ;  but  if  the  order  was  for  speech 
always  to  follow  sermo,  then  the  word  speech  would 
hardly  suggest  sermo.  Thus  one  may  be  able  to  tran- 
slate freely  from  a  foreign  tongue  into  English,  but  if 
he  has  not  also  practised  translating  into  that  language 
or  speaking  it,  he  will  be  little  able  to  do  so. 

It  is  on  this  principle  of  association  by  successive 
contiguity  that  verbal  memory  depends,  and  those  in 
whom  this  faculty  is  strong,  or  who  have  greatly  culti- 
vated it,  can  perform  great  feats  in  this  way,  being 
able  to  repeat  long  passages  of  a  book  after  having 
once  read  them,  or  a  speech  or  a  sermon  from  once 
hearing  it.  As  a  rule,  however,  they  cannot  single 

1  "Contiguity  of  two  sensations  in  time  means  the  successive 
order.  Contiguity  of  two  sensations  in  spoie  means  the  synchronous 
order."—  Jas.  Mill. 

f  "  It  is  easy  to  repeat  familiar  sentences  in  the  order  in  which 
they  always  occur,  but  impossible  to  do  it  rendily  in  an  inverted 
order." — I).  Hartley.  "In  a  poem,  the  end  of  each  preceding  word 
being  connected  with  the  beginning  of  the  succeeding  one,  we  can 
easily  repeat  them  in  that  order,  but  we  are  not  able  to  repeat  tin  in 
backwards  till  they  have  been  frequently  named  in  that  contrary 
order." — Dr.  Priestley. 


276  MEMOBY. 

out  a  particular  passage  or  sentence,  and  repeat  it  by 
itself;  for  each  succeeding  part  depends  for  its  recall 
on  that  which  immediately  preceded  it,  so  that  it  is 
only  by  beginning  at  the  commencement,  and  repeating 
till  they  come  down  to  it.  that  they  can  recall  any 
particular  passage.1 

In  synchronous  contiguity,  or  contiguity  in  space,  a 
number  of  things  are  presented  to  the  mind  at  the  same 
time,  but  differing  in  position  and  distance  from  a  par- 
ticular point,  as  the  various  objects  in  a  landscape.2 
These  are  not  observed  in  any  definite  order,  the  mind, 
as  it  were,  passing  to  and  fro  among  them  in  every 
direction,  and  therefore  they  may  be  recalled  in  any 
order,  or  the  whole  may  be  brought  up  simultaneously.8 
From  this  we  have  local  memory,  in  which  the  sight,  or 
the  idea  of  a  place,  tends  to  recall  various  objects  or 
incidents  that  have  been  associated  or  connected  with 
it  in  the  mind. 

Association  by  contiguity  is  the  first  to  come  into 
exercise,  and  is  also  the  strongest  form  of  association. 
The  memory,  therefore,  that  depends  upon  it  is  of  great 
strength.  Children  are  remarkable  for  having  this 
kind  of  memory  in  great  vigour,  as  we  see  in  the  facility 
with  which  they  learn  words,  and  to  repeat  long  pas- 

1  "Let  us  suppose  that  we  have  forgotten  the  tenth  verse  of  the 
first  Book  of  the  Odyssey  of  Homer.    Because  the  tenth  verse  usually 
occurs  to  us  after  the  first  nine,  we  begin  to  be  moved  by  thinking 
of  the  first  verse,  after  which  the  second  occurs,  then  the  third,  &c., 
till  after  the  ninth  verse  the  tenth  occurs,  and  thus  we  recollect  the 
tenth  verse,  which  we  had  forgotten." — Aristotle. 

2  "  The  second  is  the  order  of  position  when  the  objects  are  con- 
sidered as  simultaneous,  but  different  in  distance  and  direction  from 
a  particular  point." — Jos.  Mill. 

8  "  The  relation  of  coexistence  is  distinguished  from  the  relation 
of  sequence  by  the  readiness  of  its  terms  to  follow  one  another 
through  consciousness  in  'either  order  with  equal  facility  and  vivid* 
ness." — E.  Spencer. 


ASSOCIATION  OF  IDEAS.  277 

sages  by  rote.1  We  also  find  it  very  strong  in  persons 
in  whom  the  higher  form  of  association, — that  by  simi- 
larity,— is  undeveloped,  as  in  ignorant  persons  and 
those  that  are  of  weak  intellect.  These,  as  we  have 
seen,  sometimes  manifest  a  very  remarkable  strength  of 
verbal  or  local  memory.  It  is  on  this  principle  of  con- 
tiguity that  mnemonical  systems  are  constructed,  as 
when  what  we  wish  to  remember  is  associated  in  the 
mind  with  a  certain  object  or  locality,  so  that,  when  we 
see  or  think  of  the  object  or  locality,  the  ideas  asso- 
ciated with  it  will  at  once  come  up ;  or  when  each  word 
or  idea  is  associated  with  the  one  immediately  preced- 
ing it,  so  that  when  the  one  is  recalled  the  other  comes 
up  along  with  it,  and  thus  long  lists  of  names  or  long 
passages  of  a  book  can  be  readily  learnt  by  heart. 

It  is  of  the  utmost  importance  that  we  strive  to 
develop  and  cultivate  this  faculty  in  early  life,  when  it  is 
most  susceptible  of  cultivation.  This  is  necessary  not 
only  for  itself,  but  also  because  association  by  conti- 
guity enters  largely  into  the  higher  form  of  association 
by  similarity, — for  the  similars  require  to  be  brought 
together  in  order  to  be  associated,  and  unless  the  power 
of  association  by  contiguity  be  strong,  that  by  similarity 
will  be  defective. 

The  great  principle  to  be  observed  in  association  by 
contiguity  is  to  bring  the  sensations  or  ideas  two  and 
two  together  before  the  mind,  each  with  the  one  imme- 
diately following  it,  and  fixing  the  attention  upon  them, 
so  that  the  two  become  as  one.  The  concentration  of 

1 M  It  is  surprising  to  what  a  degree  of  culture  onr  power  of  re- 
taining a  succession  even  of  insignificant  sounds  is  Bttsceptible.  .  .  . 
This  susceptibility  of  memory  with  respect  to  words  is  possessed  by 
all  men  in  a  very  remarkable  degree  in  their  early  years,  and  la 
indeed  necessary  to  enable  them  to  acquire  the  use  of  language." — 
D.  Stewart. 

20 


278  MEMOBl. 

the  attention  is  as  necessary  here  as  we  have  seen  it  to 
be  in  forming  the  mental  impression.  "  We  cannot," 
says  Dr.  Pick,  "  too  strongly  insist  on  the  importance 
of  completely  isolating  each  couple  of  ideas  at  the 
moment  of  comparing  them,  and  confining  our  attention 
solely  to  them,  until  the  comparison  be  made  through- 
out the  series." 

As  a  general  rule,  the  more  closely  the  ideas  that  we 
wish  to  associate  together  are  brought  together  in  the 
mind  the  more  strongly  will  they  cohere,  and  the  greater 
will  be  their  power  of  reproducing  each  other.  If  an 
interval  takes  place  between  the  one  idea  and  the  other 
in  being  presented  to  the  mind,  there  is  ever  a  tendency 
for  irrelevant  ideas  to  spring  up  between  them,  and  in- 
terfere with  their  cohesion.1 

When  the  mind  has  experienced  a  number  of  dif- 
ferent sensations,  when  it  has  come  to  possess  a  num- 
ber of  different  ideas,  then  a  new  principle  of  associa- 
tion is  introduced, — the  new  sensation  or  idea  recalls 
past  sensations  or  ideas  of  the  same  kind  which  are 
brought  up  and  compared  with  it,  and  so  they  become 
associated  together  in  the  mind.2  The  principle  of 
association  is  still  contiguity,  but  it  ie  not  contiguity 
depending  merely  upon  proximity  in  time  or  place,  but 
arising  from  similarity.  The  similars  may  be  widely 

1 "  In  carrying  out  the  principle  of  association  it  will  be  found 
that  if  one  idea  is  not  quickly  and  very  closely  connected  with 
another,  and  an  interval  takes  place,  be  it  ever  so  slight,  there  is  a 
tendency  of  irrelevant  ideas  to  spring  up  in  the  mind  interfering 
with  those  which  it  is  desired  to  connect."— Anon.  "  The  rapidity 
and  strength  with  which  two  given  notions  stick  together  is  in  the 
inverse  ratio  of  their  phrenotypic  distance  ...  by  which  I  mean 
the  time  that  elapses  between  the  two  notions  that  are  to  be  con- 
nected together  acting  upon  the  brain." — Major  Beniowski. 

a  "  The  law  of  similarity  .  .  .  expresses  the  general  fact  that  any 
present  state  of  consciousness  tends  to  revive  previous  states  which 
are  similar  to  it." — Dr.  Carpenter. 


ASSOCIATION  OF  IDEAS.  279 

apart  in  space  or  in  time,  but  they  are  brought  together 
and  associated  through  their  resemblance  to  each  other. 
Thus,  a  circumstance  of  to-day  may  recall  circum- 
stances of  a  similar  nature  that  occurred  perhaps  at 
very  different  times,  and  they  will  become  associated 
together  in  the  mind,  so  that  afterwards  the  presence 
of  one  will  tend  to  recall  the  others. 

It  is  of  the  utmost  importance  to  us  in  forming  a 
judgment  of  things,  or  in  determining  upon  a  particular 
line  of  conduct,  to  be  able  to  bring  together  before  the 
mind  a  number  of  instances  of  a  similar  kind,  recent  or 
long  past,  which  may  aid  us  in  coming  to  a  right  deter- 
mination.1 Thus,  we  judge  of  the  nature  or  quality  of 
an  article,  and  obtain  light  and  leading  in  regard  to  any 
subject  that  may  be  before  us.  In  this  way  we  arrange 
and  classify,  and  reason  by  induction  and  deduction. 
This  is  known  as  rational  or  philosophical  association.2 

If  there  were  no  other  principle  of  association  than 
that  of  contiguity,  then  each  individual  thought  or  im- 
pression would  depend  for  its  recall  on  that  which 
immediately  preceded  it,  and,  in  order  to  recover  it,  it 
would  be  necessary  to  begin  at  the  beginning  of  the 
series,  and  retrace  our  course  till  we  reached  it.3  When, 
however,  association  by  similarity  comes  into  operation, 
then  our  ideas  become  linked  together  according 
to  their  resemblances,  so  that  if  we  wish  to  recall 
something  that  is  in  the  mind,  and  cannot  do  so 

1  *  It  is  exceedingly  important  in  science  and  in  the  business  of 
life  that  like  should  recall  like."—  Prof.  Bain. 

2  "Rational  or  philosophical  association  is  when  a  fact  or  stntn- 
menton  which  the  attention  is  fixed  is  associated  with  sonn-  tact 
previously  known,  to  which  it  has  a  relation,  or  with  some  subject 
which  it  is  calculated  to  illustrate."— Dr.  Carpenter. 

8  "  If  to  reach  a  distant  recollection  it  were  necessary  to  traverse 
the  entire  series  of  intervening  terms,  memory  would  be  impossible, 
because  of  the  length  of  time  required  for  the  operation."— Th.  EiboU 


280  MEMOBT. 

directly,  we  seek  for  something  bearing  some  resem- 
blance to  it,  and  in  this  way  we  recover  it. 

Over  the  associations  formed  by  contiguity  in  time  or 
space  we  have  but  little  control.  They  are  in  a  manner 
accidental,  depending  on  the  order  in  which  the  objects 
present  themselves  to  the  mind.  On  the  other  hand, 
association  by  similarity  is  largely  put  in  our  own 
power,  for  we,  in  a  measure,  select  those  objects  that 
are  to  be  associated,  and  bring  them  together  in  the 
mind.  We  must  be  careful,  however,  only  to  associate 
together  such  things  as  we  wish  to  be  associated  to- 
gether, and  to  recall  each  other ;  and  the  associations 
we  form  should  be  based  on  fundamental  or  essential, 
and  not  on  mere  superficial  or  casual,  resemblances.1 
When  things  are  associated  by  their  accidental  and  not 
by  their  essential  qualities,  by  their  superficial  and  not 
by  their  fundamental  relations,  they  will  not  be  available 
when  wanted,  and  will  be  of  little  real  use.2  When  we 
associate  what  is  new  with  what  most  nearly  resembles 
it  in  the  mind  already,  we  give  it  its  proper  place  in  our 
fabric  of  thought.  By  means  of  association  by  similarity 
we,  as  it  were,  tie  up  our  ideas  in  separate  bundles,  and 
it  is  of  the  utmost  importance  that  all  the  ideas  that 
most  nearly  resemble  each  other  be  in  one  bundle. 

1 "  The  habit  of  correct  association — that  is,  connecting  facts  in  the 
mind  according  to  their  true  relations,  and  to  the  manner  in  which 
they  tend  to  illustrate  each  other  ...  is  one  of  the  principal 
means  of  improving  the  memory,  particularly  that  kind  of  memory 
which  is  an  essential  quality  of  a  cultivated  mind — namely,  that 
which  is  founded  not  upon  incidental  connections,  but  on  true  and 
important  relations." — Dr.  Abercrombie. 

2  "  In  a  mind  where  the  prevailing  principles  of  association  are 
founded  on  casual  relations  among  the  various  objects  of  its  know- 
ledge, the  thoughts  must  necessarily  succeed  each  other  in  a  very 
irregular  and  disorderly  manner,  and  the  occasions  on  which  they 
present  themselves  will  be  determined  merely  by  accident."— D* 
Stewart* 


ASSOCIATION   OF   IDEAS.  281 

When  our  ideas  are  associated  together  in  the  mind 
according  to  their  resemblances,  they  can  be  recalled 
when  and  as  they  are  required.  To  a  mind  so  stored 
when  thinking  on  any  subject,  those  ideas  that  are 
most  nearly  connected  with  it,  and  most  likely  to  throw 
light  upon  it,  will  come  up.1  Such  a  mind  will  not  be 
harassed  or  distracted  by  the  springing  up  of  alien  or 
irrelevant  thoughts,  for  only  such  will  present  them- 
selves as  have  a  direct  bearing  upon  the  subject. 

The  wrong  association  of  ideas  in  the  mind  is  a 
source  of  endless  mischief.2  "  The  connection  in  our 
minds  of  ideas,  in  themselves  loose  and  independent  of 
one  another,"  says  John  Locke,  "  has  such  an  influence, 
and  is  of  so  great  force,  to  set  us  awry  in  our  actions, 
as  well  moral  as  natural,  passions,  reasonings,  and 
notions  themselves,  that,  perhaps,  there  is  not  any  one 
thing  that  deserves  more  to  be  looked  after. "  It  is 
particularly  in  early  years,  and  in  the  education  of  the 
young,  that  we  must  guard  against  wrong  associations. 
"  From  the  intimate  and  almost  indissoluble  combina- 
tions which  we  are  thus  led  to  form  in  infancy  and  early 
youth  may  be  traced  many  of  our  speculative  errors 
.  .  .  many  perversions  of  our  moral  judgment,  and 
many  of  those  prejudices  which  mislead  us  in  the  con- 
duct of  life/'— D.  Stewart.  "  We  should  never  suffer  any 
ideas  to  be  joined  in  their  (i.e.,  children's)  understand- 
ing in  any  other  or  stronger  combination  than  what  their 
own  nature  and  correspondence  give  them." — JolmLocke* 

1 "  In  consequence  of  this  law  of  our  nature  .  .  .  when  an  occa- 
sion occurs  which  calls  for  the  aid  of  our  past  experience,  the  occasion 
itself  recalls  to  us  all  the  information  upon  the  subject  which  that 
experience  has  accumulated." — D.  Stewart. 

8  "  Ideas  that  in  themselves  are  not  at  all  of  kin,  come,"  by  chance 
or  custom,  "to  be  so  united  in  some  men's  minds  that  it  is  very  hard 
to  separate  them  ". — John  Locke. 

9  "  In  the  case  of  right  belief  the  association  IB  between  ideas 


282  MEMOBY. 

"In  reference  to  the  whole  science  of  education,"  gays 
Dr.  Abercromhie,  "nothing  is  of  greater  importance 
than  the  principle  of  association.1  .  .  .  By  means  of  a 
judicious  education,  this  susceptibility  of  the  infant 
mind  (to  form  associations)  might  be  rendered  subser- 
vient not  only  to  moral  improvement,  but  to  the  en- 
largement and  multiplication  of  our  capacities  of  enjoy- 
ment." 

In  order  to  the  formation  of  right  associations  in  the 
minds  of  children  there  is  no  method  more  suitable 
than  that  of  asking  them  questions — not,  as  is  usually 
done  at  present,  in  order  to  find  out  what  they  know, 
still  less  to  puzzle  them  about  what  they  don't  know, 
or  know  only  imperfectly ;  but  for  the  purpose  of  un- 
folding their  minds  and  teaching  them  to  lay  up  their 
knowledge  in  a  natural  and  regular  way.  This  should 
be  done  viva  voce,  and  not  from  books,  the  questions 
springing  naturally  out  of  the  child's  answers,  and  being 
as  nearly  as  possible  in  its  own  words, — a  principle 
of  similarity  guiding  the  whole.  Socrates,  Plato,  and 
others  among  the  ancients,  and  some  moderns,  have 
been  masters  of  this  art.1  The  principle  of  asking 

which,  in  the  language  of  Locke,  '  have  a  natural  correspondence  and 
connection  one  with  another ' ;  in  the  case  of  wrong  belief,  it  is  be- 
tween ideas  which,  'in  themselves,  are  not  at  all  of  kin,  and  are 
joined  only  by  chance  or  custom  V — James  Mill.  "  All  the  dif- 
ferences, moral  and  intellectual,  observable  in  human  character,  are 
only  differences  in  the  order  of  mental  sequences, — that  is,  of  the 
order  in  which  the  thoughts  and  feelings  succeed  each  other  in  the 
individual  mind." — B.  Cornelius. 

1  "  This  habit  of  ...  association  ought  to  be  carefully  cultivated, 
as  it  must  have  a  great  influence  on  our  progress  in  knowledge,  and 
likewise  on  the  formation  .of  intellectual  character,  provided  the 
associations  be  made  upon  sound  principles,  or  according  to  the  true 
and  important  relations  of  things." — Dr.  Abercrombie. 

2  In  proposing  questions  it  is  very  necessary  to  keep  in  view  the 
importance  of  ...  arranging  them  in  the  exact  order  in  which  the 
subject  would  naturally  develop  itself  in  the  mind  of  a  logical  aud 


ASSOCIATION  OF  IDEAS,  283 

questions  and  obtaining  answers  to  them  may  be  said 
to  characterise  all  intellectual  effort.  The  child  makes 
its  first  entrance  into  the  field  of  knowledge  by  asking 
questions,  and  the  crowning  efforts  of  the  philosopher 
are  still  asking  questions  and  attempting  to  find  answers 
to  them.  The  great  thing  is  to  ask  the  right  questions 
and  to  obtain  the  right  answers. 

When  association  by  similarity  comes  to  be  more  and 
mo're  the  habit  of  the  mind,  association  by  contiguity 
becomes  weaker — the  simple  process  of  connecting  each 
following  sensation  or  idea  with  the  one  just  past  is 
interfered  with,  and  a  new  principle  is  introduced. 
When  the  mind  is  occupied  in  seeking  among  its  past 
experiences  for  similars  to  something  that  is  now  present. 
it  cannot  give  the  same  attention  to  what  immediatel} 
preceded.  .Hence  men  of  learning  and  culture  arc 
commonly  said  to  have  bad  memories,  but  this  is  onl) 
because  their  ideas  are  associated  on  a  different  principle 
from  those  of  the  less  educated.1 

These  two  laws  of  association  by  contiguity  and  simi- 
larity have  so  much  in  common  that  it  is  not  to  b< 
wondered  at  that  attempts  have  been  made  to  reduc^ 

systematic  thinker."— Dr.  Fitch.  "  This  art  of  questioning  posseted 
by  Dr.  Hodgson  was  something  wonderful  and  unique,  and  was  to 
the  minds  of  most  of  his  pupils  a  truly  obstetric  art  He  told  tlu-n 
little  or  nothing,  but  he  showed  them  how  to  find  out  for  themsel 
'  The  Socratic  method,'  he  said,  <  is  the  true  one,  especially  with  tin 
young.' " — Life,  by  Prof.  Meiklejohn. 

1  "The  bulk  of  mankind,  being  but  little  accustomed  to  refli"-' 
and  to  generalise,  associate  their  ideas  chiefly  according  to  their  n 
obvious  relations  .  .  .  and  above  all  according  to  the  casual  ivlatioii> 
arising  from  contiguity  in  time  and  place  ;  whereas  in  the  mind  ol  ,-• 
philosopher  ideas  are  commonly  associated  according  to  those  rela 
tions  which  are  brought  to  light  in  consequence  of  particular  ell'- 
of  attention,  such  as  the  relations  of  cause  and  effect,  or  of  pren 
and  conclusion."     Hence  "it  must  necessarily  happen  that  when  he 
has  occasion  to  apply  to  use  his  acquired  knowledge,  time  and  reflec- 
tion will  be  requisite  to  enable  him  to  recollect  it  ".-—D.  tit  wart. 


284  MEMOET. 

them  to  one  leading  principle.1  The  first  attempt  of 
this  kind  was  made  by  Augustine,  who  reduced  them 
both  to  coexistence — thoughts  that  had  once  coexisted 
in  the  mind  being  afterwards  associated  together.  Sir 
"William  Hamilton  adopts  the  same  view,  and  names  it 
the  law  of  *  redintegration  "  or  "  totality/'  explaining  it 
by  saying  that  "those  thoughts  suggest  each  other 
which  had  previously  constituted  parts  of  the  same 
entire  or  total  act  of  cognition".  It  includes  "in  the 
first  place  those  thoughts  which  arose  at  the  same  time 
or  in  immediate  consecution  ;  and  in  the  second  those 
thoughts  which  are  bound  up  into  one  by  their  mutual 
affinity".  "By  this  one  law,"  he  adds,  "the  whole 
phenomena  of  association  may  be  easily  explained." 

The  law  of  association  prevails  not  only  in  our 
thoughts  and  sensations,  but  also  in  our  actions,  one 
action  becoming  associated  with  another,  and  tending 
to  recall  it.  Thus  the  acquired  movements  of  a  soldier 
or  of  a  skilled  workman  are  so  connected  together  that 
the  one  succeeds  the  other  as  it  were  of  necessity, — the 
various  movements  are  "  so  firmly  associated  that  when 

1  Aristotle  reduced  the  laws  of  association  "  to  four,  or  rather  to 
three — contiguity  in  time  and  space,  resemblance,  and  contrariety. 
He  even  seems  to  have  thought  they  might  all  be  carried  up  into  the 
one  law  of  coexistence.  Aristotle  implicitly,  St.  Augustine  explicitly 
— what  has  never  been  observed— reduces  association  to  a  single 
canon,  viz.,  thoughts  which  have  once  coexisted  in  the  mind  are 
afterwards  associated.  This  law,  which  I  would  call  the  law  of 
Redintegration,  was  afterwards  enounced  by  Malebranche,  Wolf,  and 
Bilfinger,  but  without  any  reference  to  St.  Augustine."— Sir  W. 
Hamilton.  "Both  (Hartley  and  Condillac)  agree  in  referring  all  the 
intellectual  operations  to  the  association  of  ideas,  and  in  representing 
that  association  as  reducible  to  the  single  law,  that  ideas  which  enter 
the  mind  at  the  same  time  acquire  a  tendency  to  call  up  each  other, 
which  is  in  direct  proportion  to  the  frequency  of  their  having 
entered  together." — Sir  Jos.  M'Intosh.  Dr.  Thomas  Brown  is  of 
opinion  that  "  all  suggestion  may  be  found  to  depend  on  prior  co- 
existence, or  at  least  on  such  proximity  as  is  itself  very  probably  ft 
modification  of  coexistence  ". 


ASSOCIATION   OF  IDEAS.  285 

we  will  to  do  the  first,  the  rest  follow  mechanically  and 
unconsciously  ". — Prof.  Bain.  We  have  already  stated 
(p.  245)  that  we  do  not  consider  this  as  a  distinct  form 
of  association,  depending  merely  on  physical  causes,  but 
that  the  associated  movements  are  owing  to  the  presence 
of  corresponding  ideas  which  exist  and  form  their  asso- 
ciations in  that  ultra-conscious  region  of  the  mind  in 
which  so  many  of  our  highest  mental  operations  are 
carried  on.  Thus  even  our  mechanical  habits  depend 
on  the  association  of  our  ideas. 

But  while  we  hold  that  all  our  physical  associations 
have  their  mental  side,  we  are  likewise  of  opinion  that 
all  our  mental  associations  have  their  physical  side.1 
As  every  thought  that  passes  through  the  mind  is 
attended  by  motion  and  change  in  our  physical  struc- 
ture, the  associations  that  are  formed  between  these 
thoughts  must  likewise  have  corresponding  physical 
changes  attending  them.  Hence  it  is,  in  our  opinion, 
that  we  find  so  close  a  resemblance  between  the  law  of 
attraction  in  the  physical  world  and  the  law  of  associa- 
tion of  ideas  in  the  mental.2  The  latter  may  perhaps 
be  said  to  depend  on,  or  at  least  to  derive  its  character 
from,  the  law  of  attraction  which  pervades  all  matter.1 

1  "  Two  ideas  will  cohere  feebly  or  strongly  according  as  the  cor- 
relative nervous  states  involve  a  feeble  or  a  strong  discharge  along 
the  lines  of  nervous  connection  ;  and  hence  a  large  wave  of  feeling, 
implying  as  it  does  a  voluminous  discharge  in  all  directions,  renders 
such  two  ideas  more  coherent." — Herbert  Spencer. 

3  "  It  is  neither  an  inapt  nor  a  strained  comparison  to  call  this 
power  (association  by  similarity)  the  law  of  gravitation  of  the  intel- 
lectual world." — Prof.  Bain.  Hume  calls  it  "a  kind  of  attraction 
which  in  the  mental  world  will  be  found  to  have  as  cxtnionli: 
effects  as  in  the  natural,  and  to  show  itself  ill  as  many  and  as  various 
forms  ". 

8  "  One  may  expect  that  vibrations  should  infer  association  aa 
their  effect,  and  association  point  to  vibrations  as  ita  cause." — Dr.  D. 
Hartley. 


286  MEMORY. 

It  is  by  means  of  association  that  we  recall  to  mind 
past  ideas  and  sensations.  This  is  evident  in  those 
cases  where  we  cannot  at  once  recall  a  past  idea,  but 
have,  as  it  were,  to  search  for  it,  which  we  do  by  endea- 
vouring to  bring  to  mind  something  that  occurred  at 
the  same  time,  or  something  that  bears  some  resem- 
blance to  what  is  wanted.  In  the  higher  form  of 
memory,  where  what  is  wanted  occurs  readily,  natu- 
rally, and  at  once,  without  any  conscious  effort  or 
search  for  it,  the  place  of  association  is  not  so  apparent, 
but  there  can  be  little  doubt  that  here  too  it  operates, 
though  as  a  rule  we  are  not  conscious  of  it. 

In  order  to  fix  a  thing  in  the  memory  we  must  asso- 
ciate it  with  something  in  the  mind  already,  and  the 
more  closely  that  which  we  wish  to  remember  resembles 
that  with  which  it  is  associated,  the  better  is  it  fixed 
in  the  memory,  and  the  more  readily  is  it  recalled.1  If 
the  two  greatly  resemble  each  other,  or  are  not  to  be 
distinguished  from  each  other,  then  the  association  is 
of  the  strongest  kind.1  In  like  manner,  feelings  of  the 

•  w  The  remembrance  of  isolated  facts  does  not  depend  merely  on 
the  degree  of  attention  directed  to  them,  but  also  on  the  existence  in 
Jthe  mind  of  subjects  of  thought  with  which  the  new  fact  may  be 
associated." — Dr.  Abercrombie.  "  The  facility  of  retaining  a  new  fact 
or  a  new  idea  will  depend  on  the  number  of  relations  which  it  bears 
to  the  former  objects  of  our  knowledge." — D.  Stewart.  "  The  more 
relations  or  likenesses  that  we  find  or  can  establish  between  objects, 
the  more  easily  will  the  view  of  one  lead  us  to  recollect  the  rest." — 
Dr.  Jas.  Beattie.  "  The  greater  the  similitude  and  the  more  nume- 
rous the  points  of  resemblance,  the  surer  is  the  stroke  of  recall.  .  .  . 
In  reading  a  poem  the  memory  is  assisted  to  remember  it  by  all  the 
similarities  of  thought,  of  imagery,  of  language,  of  metre  and  rhythm 
that  one  is  able  to  evoke  from  the  traces  of  former  readings  and 
recollections." — Prof.  Bain. 

1  "  Two  objects  completely  similar,  or  which  determine  undistin- 
guishable  impressions  upon  us,  are  as  if  they  were  identical." — Sir 
W.  Hamilton.  "  In  the  case  of  perfect  identity  between  a  present 
and  a  past  impression,  the  past  is  recovered  and  fused  with  the  pre- 
eent  instantaneously  and  surely."  "  To  whatever  extent  one  thing 


ASSOCIATION  OP  IDEAS.  287 

same  order  cohere  more  readily  and  surely  than  feelings 
of  different  orders.1  Hence  the  importance  of  having 
the  mind  well  stocked  with  materials  with  which  to 
associate  what  we  wish  to  remember.  Each  faculty 
and  each  division  of  a  faculty  is  more  or  less  limited. 
There  are  only  a  certain  number  of  distinct  acts 
that  it  is  capable  of  performing,  a  certain  number  of 
separate  impressions  that  it  can  receive,  and  hence  if 
we  train  each  to  a  due  and  accurate  performance  of  all 
these  acts,  store  it  with  all  these  impressions,  then  we 
have,  as  it  were,  a  graduated  scale  of  objects  or  ideas 
with  which  to  associate  whatever  we  wish  to  remember. 
Thus  there  are  only  a  certain  number  of  distinct  sounds 
that  the  tongue  can  utter,  and  if  it  is  taught  to  utter 
each  of  these  distinctly,  so  as  to  have  a  distinct  impres- 
sion of  it  in  the  mind,  and  be  able  to  recall  it  at  will, 
then  every  new  sound,  every  new  utterance,  would  at 
once  find  its  proper  place,  form  its  right  association, 
and  be  remembered  and  recalled  at  will.2  The  same  is 

is  the  repetition  of  another,  the  cost  of  contiguous  acquisition  is 
saved." — Prof.  Bain. 

1  "  Feelings  of   different  orders  cohere  with  one  another  less 
strongly  than  do  feelings  of  the  same  order.     The  impressions  which 
make  up  the  visual  consciousness  of  an  object  hang  together  more 
firmly  than  the  group  of  them  does  with  the  group  of  sounds  making 
up  the  name  of  the  object." — H.  Spencer.      "We  can  more  easily 
think  of  the  whiteness  and  figure  of  a  lump  of  sugar  at  the  same 
time  than  the  whiteness  and  sweetness  of  it."— E.  Darwin.     "  The 
relational  element  of  mind  ...  is  greater  between  feelings  of  the 
same  order  than  between  feelings  of  one  order  and  those  of  another. 
This  answers  to  the  fact  that  the  bundles  of  nerve  fibres  and  clusters 
of  nerve  vesicles  belonging  to  feelings  of  one  order  are  combined 
together  more  directly  arid  intimately  than  they  are  with  the  fibres 
and  vesicles  belonging  to  feelings  of  other  orders. " — U.  Spencer. 

2  "  It  appears,  then,  that  an  analysis  and  scale  of  articulate  soun<ls, 
with  minute  description  of  the  organic  actions  required  to  produce 
them,  like  the  scale  which  we  possess  for  music  in  the  gamut  and 
rules  for  fingering,  should  give  nearly  the  same  assistance  to  the 
tpeaker  which  the  gamut  gives  to  the  player.  .  .  .  The  modifier 


288  MEMOBY. 

true  with  regard  to  the  other  senses  and  the  mental 
faculties  generally.  The  memory  is  able  to  retain  and 
reproduce  a  vastly  greater  number  of  ideas  if  they  are 
associated  or  arranged  on  some  principle  of  similarity 
than  if  they  are  presented  merely  as  isolated  facts.1  It 
is  not  by  the  multitude  of  ideas,  but  the  want  of  ar- 
rangement among  them,  that  the  memory  is  burdened 
and  its  powers  weakened. 

Where  two  ideas  that  are  very  dissimilar  are  wished 
to  be  associated  we  may  by  means  of  analysis  find  parts 
of  one  closely  resembling  or  identical  with  parts  of  the 
other,  and  by  means  of  these  may  associate  them. 
Thus  words  having  certain  letters  or  syllables  the  same 
tend  to  suggest  each  other. 

tions  of  voice  easily  made  and  easily  distinguishable  by  the  ear,  and 
therefore  fit  elements  of  language,  are  about  fifty  in  number,  but  few 
languages  use  more  than  about  half  of  them." — Dr.  N  Arnott.  "  Of 
late  years  physiologists,  especially  Briicke,  have  actually  undertaken 
to  draw  up  a  complete  system  of  all  the  vocables  that  can  be  pro- 
duced by  the  organs  of  speech,  and  to  base  upon  it  propositions  for 
a  nuniversal  alphabet  adapted  to  all  human  languages." — Helmholtz. 
"  All  human  utterances  may  be  resolved  into  e"  ^mentary  sounds ; 
and  all  the  varieties  of  elementary  sounds  in  different  languages  are 
the  result  of  definite  mechanical  adjustments  of  the  organs  of  speech. 
The  organs  are  the  same  in  all  men,  and,  consequently,  every  man 
possesses  naturally  the  ability  to  speak  any  or  every  language." — A. 
M.  Bell.  Mr.  A.  M.  Bell  has  invented  a  system  of  characters,  thirty- 
four  in  number,  by  which  every  variety  of  sound  is  accurately  re- 
presented, and  by  the  aid  of  which  "  different  readers  are  enabled  to 
place  the  organs  of  speech  so  as  to  yield  with  readiness  and  unifor- 
mity the  minutest  varieties  of  articulate  sounds ".  "  It  will  stand 
the  following  test :  Let  any  sound,  of  which  the  human  organs  of 
speech  are  capable,  be  pronounced  in  his  hearing,  and  he  will  engage 
to  write  it  on  paper,  so  that  one  who  knows  the  characters  shall  be 
able  to  imitate  the  sound  correctly  at  sight,  though  he  has  never 
heard  it  before,  and  has  no  other  means  of  guessing  what  it  was  like." 
1  "  The  ignorant  man  may  be  said  to  have  charged  his  hundred 
hooks  of  knowledge,  to  use  a  rude  simile,  with  single  objects,  while 
the 'informed  man  makes  each  support  a  long  chain  to  which  thou* 
sands  of  kindred  and  useful  things  are  attached."-— Dr.  N.  Arnott. 


CHAPTER  IX. 
MEMOEY:  HOW  TO  IMPKOVB  rr. 

"The  natural  as  opposed  to  the  artificial  memory  dep'ends  on  the  relations  cf 
•ense  and  the  relations  of  thought,— the  spontaneous  memory  of  the  eye  and  the 
ear  availing  itself  of  the  obvious  conjunctions  of  objects  which  are  furnished  by 
space  and  time,  and  the  rational  memory  of  those  higher  combinations  which  the 
rational  faculties  superinduce  upon  those  lower.  The  artificial  memory  proposes  to 
substitute  for  the  natural  and  necessary  relations  under  which  all  objects  must 
present  and  arrange  themselves  an  entirely  new  set  of  relations  that  are  purely 
arbitrary  and  mechanical,  which  excite  little  or  no  other  interest  than  that  they  are 
to  aid  us  in  remembering.  It  follows  that  if  the  mind  tasks  itself  to  the  special 
effort  of  considering  objects  under  these  artificial  relations,  it  will  give  less  attention 
to  those  which  have  a  direct  and  legitimate  interest  for  itself." — Dr.  N.  Porter. 

"  By  an  artificial  memory  is  meant  a  method  of  connecting  in  the  mind  thingg 
difficult  to  be  remembered  with  things  easily  remembered,  so  as  to  enable  it  to 
retain  and  recollect  the  former  by  means  of  the  latter.  .  .  .  One  important  objec- 
tion applies  to  all  of  them,  that  they  accustom  the  mind  to  associate  ideas  by  acci- 
dental and  arbitrary  connections."— D.  Stewart. 

"The  defect  of  most  methods  which  have  been  devised  and  employed  for  im- 
proving the  memory  lies  in  the  fact  that  while  they  serve  to  impress  particular 
subjects  on  the  mind,  they  dfr  not  render  the  memory,  as  a  whole,  ready  or  reten- 
tive."—£r.  M.  Granville. 

"  Surely  an  art  of  memory  may  be  made  no  more  destructive  to  natural  memory 
than  spectacles  are  to  eyes." — Thomas  Fuller. 

"The  extent  of  the  memory  depends,  first,  on  the  daily  use  we  make  of  It; 
secondly,  on  the  attention  with  which  we  consider  the  objects  we  would  impress 
upon  it ;  and  thirdly,  on  the  order  in  which  we  range  our  ideas." — Helvetius. 

"  This  is  the  faculty  that  most  of  all  concerns  us  in  the  work  of  education,  .  .  . 
All  improvement  in  the  art  of  teaching  depends  on  the  attention  that  we  give  to  the 
various  circumstances  that  facilitate  acquirement  or  lessen  the  number  of  repeti- 
tions for  a  given  effect." — Prof.  Bain. 

"  The  whole  art  of  education  as  respects  this  faculty  consists  hi  regulating  the 
reception  of  first  impressions  so  as  to  give  them  the  firmest  hold  on  the  mind  ;  and 
in  furnishing  methods  by  which  the  power  of  recollection,  in  dependence  on  the 
will,  maj  best  be  guided  and  maintained."— -Sir  H.  Holland. 

THAT  the  memory  is  capable  of  indefinite  improve- 
ment there  can  be  no  manner  of  doubt ;  but  with 
regard  to  the  means  by  which  this  improvement  is  to 
be  effected  mankind  are   still   greatly  in  ignorance. 


290  MEMOEY. 

Numerous  books  have  indeed  been  written  on  Arts  of 
Improving  the  Memory,  and  various  schemes  have  been 
devised  with  that  object,  but  they  are  all  based  on  partial 
or  erroneous  views  of  the  true  principles  of  memory,  and 
are,  therefore,  of  little  or  no  real  value,  tending  rather 
to  distort  than  to  improve  and  strengthen  the  memory. 
Any  means  that  are  adopted  for  the  improvement  of 
the  memory  must  be  based  on  an  intimate  knowledge 
of  its  true  nature,  and  the  principles  on  which  it  acts. 

We  have  distinguished  three  kinds  or  degrees  of 
memory, — the  local,  the  rational,  and  the  representative 
or  imaginative.  The  first  of  these  depends  upon 
locality,  or  objects  that  appeal  to  the  sight,  which  have 
great  power  in  vividly  impressing  the  mind,  so  that 
whatever  is  associated  with  them  is  easily  remembered. 
It  is  on  this  principle  that  systems  of  Mnemonics  are 
usually  constructed.1  Most  persons  must  have  ob- 
served that  when  in  a  locality  where  they  had  been 
before,  things  that  had  happened  then  come  very 
vividly  before  them.  "  In  passing  along  a  road/'  says 
D.  Stewart,  "  which  we  had  formerly  travelled  in  the 
company  of  a  friend,  the  particulars  of  the  conversation 
in  which  we  were  then  engaged  are  frequently  suggested 
to  us  by  the  objects  we  meet  with.  In  such  a  scene 
we  recollect  that  a  particular  subject  was  started,  and  in 
passing  the  different  houses,  and  plantations,  and  rivers, 
the  arguments  we  were  discussing  when  we  last  saw 
them  recur  spontaneously  to  the  memory."  Taking 
advantage  of  this  principle,  then,  we  may  connect  what 
we  wish  to  remember  with  certain  localities,  the  public 

1 "  Locality  is  the  most  efficacious  medium  of  recollection  ;  and  that 
system  of  memory  will  be  the  most  serviceable  which  brings  this 
principle  into  the  most  extensive  operation.  For  that  reason  locality, 
or  the  connection  of  our  ideas  with  places,  is  made  the  foundation  of 
the  present  system." — G.  von  Feinaigle. 


HOW  TO  IMPROVE  IT.  291 

buildings  of  a  town,  the  houses  of  a  street,  or  the  furnl* 
ture  of  a  room,  and,  by  going  over  these  actually  or  in 
imagination,  the  ideas  associated  with  them  will  readily 
come  up.  Cicero,  Quintilian,  and  others  of  the  ancients 
practised  and  recommended  this  plan.1  "By  those  who 
would  improve  the  memory,"  says  Cicero,  "  certain 
places  must  be  fixed  upon,  and  of  those  things  which 
they  desire  to  keep  in  memory  symbols  must  be  con- 
ceived in  the  mind  and  ranged,  as  it  were,  in  those 
places;  thus,  the  order  of  places  would  preserve  the 
order  of  things,  and  the  symbols  of  the  things  would 
denote  the  things  themselves;  so  that  we  should  use 
the  places  as  waxen  tablets  and  the  symbols  as  letters." 
Quintilian  recommends  persons  "  to  fix  in  their  minds 
places  of  the  greatest  possible  extent,  diversified  by 
considerable  variety,  such  as  a  large  house,  for  example, 
divided  into  many  apartments.  Whatever  is  remark- 
able in  it  is  carefully  impressed  on  the  mind,  so  that 
the  thought  may  run  over  every  part  of  it  without 
hesitation  or  delay."  They  are  then  to  distinguish 
what  they  wish  to  remember  by  some  symbol,  by  which 
they  may  be  reminded  of  it.  The  symbols  are  then 
arranged  in  their  proper  order  in  the  different  parts  of 
the  house,  or  on  articles  of  furniture.  "  Places,"  he 
says,  "we  must  have  either  fancied  or  selected,  and 
images  or  symbols  which  we  may  invent  at  pleasure. 

1  "  There  can  scarcely  be  anyone  of  so  acute  a  memory  that  he 
can  retain  the  order  of  words  and  sentences  without  observing  and 
associating  them  with  material  objects ;  nor,  on  the  other  hand,  is 
there  anyone  of  so  dull  a  memory  as  not  to  receive  aid  from  the  use 
of  this  plan  .  .  .  those  things  being  most  fixed  in  the  mind  which 
have  been  given  to  it  and  impressed  upon  it  by  sense."--(/!ic«ro. 
"  The  memory  is  assisted  by  localities  impressed  upon  the  mind  .  .  . 
for  when  we  return  to  places  after  an  absence  of  some  time,  we  not 
only  recognise  them,  but  recollect  also  what  we  did  in  them  ;  persons 
whom  we  saw  there,  and  sometimes  even  thoughts  that  passed  within 
our  minds  recur  to  our  memory."— Quintilian. 


292  MEMOEY. 

These  symbols  are  marks  by  which  we  may  distinguish 
the  particulars  which  we  have  to  get  by  heart." 

The  modern  system  is  to  select  a  number  of  rooms, 
and  to  divide  the  walls  and  floor  of  each,  in  imagina- 
tion, into  nine  equal  parts  or  squares,  three  in  a  row, 
On  the  front  wall — that  opposite  the  entrance — of  the 
first  room  are  the  units,  on  the  right  hand  wall  the 
tens,  on  the  left  hand  the  twenties,  on  the  fourth  wall 
the  thirties,  and  on  the  floor  the  forties.  Numbers  10, 
20,  30,  and  40  each  find  a  place  on  the  roof  above  their 
respective  walls,  while  50  occupies  the  centre  of  the 
roof.  One  room  will  thus  furnish  50  places,  and  ten 
rooms  as  many  as  500.  Having  fixed  these  clearly  in 
the  mind,  so  as  to  be  able  readily  and  at  once  to  tell 
the  exact  position  of  each  place  or  number,  it  is  then 
necessary  to  associate  with  each  of  them  some  familiar 
object  (or  symbol),  so  that  the  object  being  suggested 
its  place  may  be  instantly  remembered,  or  when  the 
place  is  before  the  mind  its  object  may  immediately 
spring  up.  When  this  has  been  done  thoroughly,  the 
objects  can  be  run  over  in  any  order  from  beginning  to 
end,  or  from  end  to  beginning,  or  the  place  of  any  par- 
ticular one  can  at  once  be  given.  All  that  is  further 
necessary  is  to  associate  the  ideas  we  wish  to  remember 
with  the  objects  in  the  various  places,  by  which  means 
they  are  readily  remembered,  and  can  be  gone  over  in 
any  order.  In  this  way  one  may  learn  to  repeat  several 
hundred  disconnected  words  or  ideas  in  any  order  after 
hearing  them  only  once. 

Nearly  allied  to  local  is  verbal  memory,  or  memory 
by  contiguity,  in  which  by  being  strongly  associated 
together,  one  word  or  one  sentence  will  at  once  suggest 
the  one  next  to  it.1  "  The  recollection  of  them,"  says 

*  "  In  what  we  call  *  learning  by  heart/  which  should  be  rather 


HOW  TO  IMPROVE  IT.  293 

Feinaigle,  "is  assisted  by  associating  some  idea  of 
relation  between  the  two  ;  and  as  we  find  by  experience 
that  whatever  is  ludicrous  is  calculated  to  make  a  strong 
impression  upon  the  mind,  the  more  ridiculous  the 
association  is  the  better."  In  this  way  one  may  learn 
to  repeat  whole  speeches  verbatim,  or  long  passages  of 
a  book  after  one  reading,  or  a  number  of  names  or  dis- 
connected words  from  once  hearing  them.  But  he  can 
repeat  them  only  in  the  order  in  which  they  have  been 
presented  to  his  mind ;  and  as  each  succeeding  word  or 
sentence  depends  for  its  recall  on  the  one  immediately 
preceding,  he  cannot,  as  a  rule,  recollect  any  particular 
part  without  commencing  at  the  beginning  and  repeat- 
ing down  to  it ;  nor  can  he  readily  transpose  or  omit 
portions. 

All  such  systems  for  the  improvement  of  the  memory 
belong  to  what  we  have  considered  the  first  or  lowest 
form  of  it.  They  are  for  the  most  part  based  on  light  L^ 
or  foolish  associations  which  have  little  foundation  in 
nature,  and  are  hence  of  little  practical  utility;  and 
they  do  not  tend  to  improve  or  strengthen  the  memory 
as  a  whole.  Lord  Bacon  long  ago  characterised  such 
systems  as  "  barren  and  useless ".  "  For,"  said  he, 
"  immediately  to  repeat  a  multitude  of  names  or  words 
once  repeated  before  ...  I  esteem  ...  no  more  than 
rope-dancing,  antic  postures,  and  feats  of  activity ;  and, 
indeed,  they  are  nearly  the  same  things,  the  one  being 
the  abuse  of  the  bodily  as  the  other  is  of  the 
mental  powers ;  and  though  they  may  cause  admiration 

called  learning  by  sense  ...  we  try  to  imprint  on  onr  memory  a 
certain  sequence  of  words,  numbers,  musical  notes,  and  the  like ;  the 
reproduction  of  these  being  mainly  dependent  upon  the  association 
of  each  item  with  that  which  follows  it,  so  that  the  utterance  of  the 
former,  or  the  picture  of  it  in  the  mind's  eye,  suggests  the  next."— 
Dr.  Carpenter. 
21 


234  MEMOEY. 

.  they  cannot  be  highly  esteemed/'  Another  writer 
truly  says  of  them :  "  The  systems  of  mnemonics  as 
taught  are  no  better  than  crutches,  useful  to  those  who 
cannot  walk,  but  impediments  and  hindrances  to  those 
who  have  the  use  of  their  limbs,  and  who  only  require 
to  exercise  them  properly  in  tfrder  to  have  the  full  use 
of  them  ". 

*+  The  second  kind  of  memory — the  rational — likewise 
depends  upon  association,  but^of  a  very  different  kind 
from  the  former.  In  this  the  associations  formed  do  not 
depend  on  locality,  or  on  contiguity,  but  the  ideas  pre- 
sented to  the  mind  recall  ideas  of  a  similar  kind  in  the 
mind  already  and  become  associated  with  them,  j  The 
similarity  or  resemblance,  between  the  ideas  thus'  asso- 
ciated together,  should  not  be  merely  superficial  or 
fanciful,  but  be  of  an  intimate  or  radical  nature,  and 
based  on  scientific  or  philosophical  principles.  "  Sound 
logic,"  says  Coleridge,  "  as  the  habitual  subordination 
of  the  individual  to  the  species,  and  of  the  species  to  the 
genus ;  philosophical  knowledge  of  facts  under  the  rela- 
tion of  cause  and  effect,  .  .  .  these  are  the  best  arts  of 
memory.'*1 

According  to  the  associations  that  are  formed  among 
ideas  is  their  power  of  recalling  each  other.  When 

1  "  Those  things  are  easily  remembered  which  are  in  order  .  .  ' 
but  those  which  are  not  well  arranged  are  with  difficulty  remem- 
bered."— Aristotle.  "  Whatever  you  would  trust  to  your  memory,  let 
it  be  disposed  in  a  proper  method,  connected  well  together,  and 
referred  to  distinct  and  particular  heads  or  classes,  both  general  and 
particular." — Isaac  Watts.  "  I  am  inclined  to  believe  .  .  .  that  if  we 
wish  to  fix  the  particulars  of  our  knowledge  very  permanently  in  the 
memory,  the  most  effectual  way  of  doing  it  is  to  refer  them  to  general 
principles."  By  means  of  general  principles  the  mind  "  can  summon 
up,  as  occasion  may  require,  an  infinite  number  of  particulars  asso- 
ciated with  them,  each  of  which,  considered  as  a  solitary  truth,  would 
have  been  as  burdensome  to  the  memory  as  the  general  principle 
with  which  it  is  connected  ". — D.  Stewart. 


HOW  TO  IMPEOVB  IT.  295 

ideas  are  associated  together  according  to  their  leading 
or  essential  qualities,  those  that  most  nearly  resemble 
each  other  will  come  up  together,  and  will  throw  light 
upon  each  other.  The  more  closely  two  ideas  resemble 
each  other,  the  more  readily  does  the  mind  pass  from 
the  one  to  the  other,  and  does  the  one  suggest  the 
other.  If  the  two  are  identical,  if  what  we  wish  to  fix 
in  the  mind  is  exactly  the  same  as,  or  not  to  be  distin- 
guished from,  something  in  the  mind  already,  then  is 
the  association  of  the  strongest  kind,  the  one  is  but  a 
repetition  of  the  other.  The  more  there  are  of  ideas 
of  the  same  kind  in  the  mind  already,  the  more  will 
there  be  of  similar  material  for  new  ideas  to  be  asso- 
ciated with,  and  the  more  easily  will  they  be  remem- 
bered. The  medical  man,  or  lawyer,  has  no  difficulty  in 
fixing  in  his  memory  any  new  facts  that  may  come 
before  him  in  connection  with  his  profession,  because 
he  has  in  his  mind  already  numerous  facts  of  the  same 
or  a  similar  kind,  among  which  the  new  facts  find  their 
proper  place,  and  become  associated  with  those  they 
most  nearly  resemble. 

In  the  cultivation  of  this  kind  of  memory,  Dr.  Aber- 
crombie  recommends  "  the  constant  practice  of  tracing 
the  relation  between  new  facts  and  others  with  which 
we  are  previously  acquainted ;  and  of  referring  facts  to 
principles  which  they  are  calculated  to  illustrate,  or  to 
opinions  which  they  tend  to  confirm,  modify,  or  over- 
turn ".  Further,  he  recommends,  in  the  education  of 
children,  to  cultivate  "  habits  of  association,  by  point- 
ing out  to  them  the  relation  of  facts  to  each  other,  and 
the  manner  in  which  they  illustrate  one  another,  or 
lead  to  some  general  conclusion". 

This  kind  of  memory  is  not,  like  the  other,  calculated 
to  produce  startling  effects  in  a  short  space  of  time,  or 


296  MEMORY. 

to  be  mastered  in  a  few  lessons.  It  is  of  gradual 
growth,  of  universal  application,  and  its  effects  are 
lasting. 

These  two  kinds  of  memory  depend,  as  we  have  seen, 
upon  association,  but  association  is  properly  only  the 
means  by  which  what  is  in  the  memory  is  recalled  or 
brought  again  before  consciousness,  the  subject-matter 
of  memory,  that  which  is  treasured  up  and  recalled  is 
the  impression  made  upon  the  mind  itself  by  the  sensa- 
tion or  idea,  and  unless  this  is  clear  and  distinct  that 
whi  h  i  recalled  will  be  imperfect.1  In  order  then  to/10' 
a  good  memory,  one  that  will  bring  the  past  clearly  and 
'  accurately  before  us,  we  must  attend  to  the  formation 
of  the  original  impression.  When  the  impression  that 
'  is  formed  in  the  mind  is  clear,  distinct,  and  vivid,  it 
1  will  be  readily  reproduced  with  much  of  its  original 
character  and  force  ;  but  when,  on  the  other  hand,  it  is 
indistinct,  hazy,  or  ill-formed,  it  will  be  recalled  with 
difficulty,  and  only  in  a  very  imperfect  manner. 

The  highest  form  of  memory  then  regards  the  im- 
pression, and  has  to  do  with  the  means  by  which  it  may 
be  made  most  clear  and  lasting.2  We  have  termed  it 
the  "  representative "  or  "imaginative  memory,"  be- 
cause by  it  past  sensations  or  ideas  are  imaged  forth,  or 
presented  to  the  mind  as  nearly  as  possible  in  their 
original  form,  as  if  they  were  again  objects  of  actual 
perception.  In  place,  then,  of  striving  to  fix  a  thing  in 
the  memory  by  associating  it  with  something  that  is 

1  "  Objects  distinctly  beheld  are  longest  retained  in  the  mind  and 
most  readily  recalled." — Paxton  Hood.  "If  we  would  treasure  up  the 
ideas  of  things,  actions,  propositions,  arguments,  and  sciences,  these 
should  be  recommended  to  our  memory  by  a  clear  and  distinct  per- 
ception of  them." — Isaac  Watts. 

a  "The  natural  and  only  true  basis  of  memory  is  a  well-founded 
impression," — Dr.  M.  Granville. 


HOW  TO  IMPEOVE  IT.  297 

more  easily  remembered,  or  with  something  in  the  mind 
already,  we  seek  to  strengthen  the  power  of  memory 
itself,  so  that  it  can  readily  seize  upon  whatever  is  pre- 
sented to  it,  and  by  concentrating  the  attention  upon 
it  form  a  clear  and  distinct  image  in  the  mind,  which 
can  afterwards  be  recalled  at  willi%  »-*• 

By  noting  what  takes  place  when  the  original  im- 
pression is  first  presented  to  the  mind,  we  shall  better 
understand  the  conditions  most  favourable  to  its  recall. 
When,  then,  an  impression  is  made  upon  an  organ  of 
sense,  a  form  of  motion,  as  we  have  seen,  is  set  up  in 
it,  which  is  conveyed  by  means  of  connecting  nerves  to 
the  brain,  where  it  becomes  an  object  of  consciousness. 
In  like  manner,  in  order  to  the  performance  of  a  con- 
scious voluntary  act,  a  motion  originates  in  the  brain, 
and  passes  along  connecting  nerves  to  the  muscles, 
which  are  thus  brought  into  action.  And  as  with  sen- 
sation and  muscular  action,  so  with  thought — every 
thought  that  passes  through  the  mind  producing  mo- 
tion m  the  part  of  the  brain  where  it  is  seated.  These 
motions  effect  changes  in  the  material  constituents  of 
the  parts  where  they  take  place,  which  changes  are 
permanent,  and  form,  in  our  view,  the  physical  basis  of 
memory. 

The  changes  thus  effected  are  not  confined  to  the 
brain,  but  extend  to  all  the  other  parts  in  which  the 
motions  took  place,  particularly  the  organs  of  sense  and 
the  muscles.  The  effect  of  these  motions — in  other 
words,  of  exercise — upon  a  muscle,  is  well  known.  It 
increases  in  size,  and  becomes  stronger  and  more  fitted 
for  the  performance  of  its  work, — each  individual  act 
doubtless  contributing  somewhat  towards  producing  the 
total  result.  "  This  gain  in  size,"  says  Dr.  Hering, 
"  consists  not  only  in  the  enlargement  of  the  individual 


298  MEMOEY. 

cells  or  fibres  of  which  the  organ  is  composed,  but  in 
the  multiplication  of  their  number ;  for  when  cells  have 
grown  to  a  certain  size,  they  give  rise  to  others  which 
inherit  more  or  less  completely  the  qualities  of  those 
from  which  they  came,  and,  therefore,  appear  to  be  re- 
petitions of  the  same  cell.7'1  In  like  manner,  when  we 
exercise  a  sense,  it  acquires  strength  and  delicacy  in  the 
direction  in  which  it  is  exercised,  which  can  only  be 
by  the  physical  organ  acquiring  additional  power  and 
fitness.2  The  eye  daily  employed  in  comparing  and 
measuring  distances  and  relations  in  space  gains  more 
and  more  in  precision,  doubtless  through  a  growing 
adaptability  in  the  visual  organ.  Speaking  of  the  im- 
provement of  the  sense  of  touch  in  the  blind,  Dr.  Car- 
penter says:  "  This  is  doTrbtless  to  be  in  part  attributed 
to  the  increased  attention  which  is  given  to  the  sensa- 
tions, and  in  part,  it  may  be  surmised,  to  an  increased 
development  of  the  tactile  organs  themselves,  resulting 
from  the  frequent  use  of  them".  In  all  such  cases  the 
improvements  that  take  place  are  not  confined  to  the 
brain,  but  extend  to  the  muscles  or  organs  of  sense 
concerned  in  them. 

In  every  sensation,  in  every  thought,  as  well  as  in 
every  muscular  movement,  there  is  activity,  and 

1  "  How  is  it  that  new  groups  of  cells  are  formed  in  accordance 
with  the  infinitely  varied  combinations  of  the  muscles  in  all  those 
numerous  instances  on  which  skill  in  art,  work,  habitual  move- 
ments, or  even  writing  and  speaking,  depend  ?  " — Dr.  Lay  cock.  "  The 
aptitude  which  is  acquired  by  practice  for  the  performance  of  certain 
actions  that  were  at  first  accomplished  with  difficulty  seems  to  result 
as  much  from  a  structural  change  which  the  continual  repetition  of 
them  occasions  in  the  muscle,  as  in  the  habit  which  the  nervous 
eystem  acquires  of  exciting  the  movement." — Dr.  Carpenter. 

3  **  That  a  continuous  development  of  new  nerve  fibres  takes  place 
in  the  adult  has  been  proved  beyond  question  by  facts  demonstrated 
in  many  of  the  textures  of  man  and  the  lower  animals." — Dr.  L.  £ 
Beale. 


HOW  TO  IMPROVE  IT.  299 

memory  may  be  said  to  be  the  remembrance  of  acti- 
vities— of  acts  done  in  the  body.1  Every  form  of  activity 
registers  itself,  as  it  were,  in  the  particular  part  of  the 
body  in  which  the  action  takes  place,  and  hence  it 
comes  to  be  more  and  more  easily  performed  with  each 
repetition.2  The  seat  of  the  activity  is  also  the  seat  of 
the  memory  of  it,  which  is  not  the  brain"  alone,  but 
extends  to  the  different  parts  in  which  the  activity 
has  taken  place.  Activities  of  the  same  kind  takeplace"* 
and  are  registered  in  the  same  parts,  and  activities  of 
different  kinds  in  different  parts,  of  the  body. 

Whatever  tends  to  prevent  the  mind  from  acting 
upon  the  same  parts  as  were  concerned  in  the  original 
impression  is  detrimental  to  its  recall.  Thus,  emotion, 
passion,  and  other  feelings  that  are  of  a  diffusive  nature, 
and  affect  the  brain  generally,  prevent  action  along 
limited  tracts.8  Hence  the  apparent  antagonism  be- 
tween our  feelings  and  our  intellect,  the  one  acting,  as 
it  were,  in  direct  opposition  to  the  other.  In  order  to 
the  clear,  unbiassed  action  of  the  intellect,  we  must 
put  away  feeling  and  passion.  Owing  to  their  diffusive 
nature,  our  past  feelings  are  very  difficult  of  recall,  and 
we  cannot  reflect  upon  them  with  any  degree  of  clearness. 

1  "  The  cultivation  of  every  science  and  the  practice  of  every  art 
are  in  fact  a  species  of  action." — Sir  J.  Mackintosh.   "  Knowledge  is  not 
acquired  by  mere  passive  affection,  but  through  the  exertion  of 
spontaneous  activity  on  the  part  of  the  knowing  subject." — Sir  W. 
Hamilton. 

2  "  The  registering  of  experiences,  it  appears,  is  accomplished  by 
a  modification  of  the  nervous  structure,  making  the  part  affected 
more  susceptible  to  a  recurrence  of  the  same  movements  which  took 
place  in  the  original  stimulation.    The  greater  the  amount  of  force 
brought  to  bear  in  affecting  the  nerves,  the  more  complete  and  per- 
manent will  be  the  modification,  and  hence  the  more  indelible  will 
be  the  registry." — D.  G.  Thompson. 

8  "  Emotion  spurns  nice  distinctions  and  incapacitate!  the  mind 
for  feeling  them  . — Pro/.  Bam, 


300  MEMOEY. 

When  a  sensation  or  a  movement  is  recalled  to  mind 
in  its  highest  form, — when  it  is  imagined, — we  believe 
that  the  same  parts  are  affected,  and  the  same  kind  of 
motion  takes  place  as  in  the  original  impression,  but  in 
a  reverse  order, — the  recalled  sense-motion  commencing 
in  the  brain  where  the  idea  originates,  and  terminating 
in  the  organ  of  sense,  and  the  recalled  muscular  motion 
commencing  in  the  muscles  and  terminating  in  the 
brain.  In  order  to  this  we  have  attempted  to  prove 
that,  contrary  to  the  received  opinion,  each  class  of 
nerves  is  capable  of  conveying  impressions  both  to  and 
from  the  brain, — that  afferent  nerves,  while  primarily 
conveying  impressions  from  the  organs  of  sense  to  the 
brain,  are  also  capable  of  conveying  impressions  from 
the  brain  to  the  organs  of  sense,  and,  in  like  manner, 
that  efferent  nerves,  while  they  primarily  convey  im- 
pressions from  the  brain  to  the  muscles,  likewise  carry 
impressions  from  the  muscles  to  the  brain.  We  cannot 
suppose  that  a  different  class  of  nerves  would  be  em- 
ployed in  the  recollection  of  a  sensation  or  a  movement 
from  what  was  originally  concerned  in  producing  it. 

That  the  organs  of  sense  and  the  muscles  are  con- 
cerned in  this  highest  form  of  memory  has  also  been 
attempted  to  be  shown.  The  artist  who  can  recall  and 
paint  a  scene  from  memory  must  be  able  to  bring  its 
various  features  very  vividly  before  his  mind's  eye. 
The  calculator  who  can  carry  out  long  and  intricate 
processes  of  calculation  mentally,  does  so,  we  are  told, 
by  having  in  his  mind's  eye  something  resembling  a 
black  board,  on  which  he  has  the  power  of  making  the 
figures  appear  and  disappear  at  will.1  In  these  and  the 

1  "  I  have  had  occasion  to  note  that  several  calculators  do  not  see 
the  figures  in  their  problems,  but  hear  them.  It  matters  little,  so  far 
as  our  theory  is  concerned,  whether  the  images  are  visual  or  audi« 
tory.w— Th.  Ribot. 


HOW  TO  IMPROVE   IT.  301 

like  cases  the  mind's  eye  can  be  no  other  than  the 
bodily  one,  on  the  retina  of  which  the  impressions  are 
mentally  imaged.  All  objects  of  sight  impress  them- 
selves upon  the  retina,  and  we  believe  that  all  mental 
visual  impressions  imprint  themselves  there  and  no- 
where else.  And  as  with  sight,  so  with  hearing,  touch, 
taste,  smell,  and  muscular  feeling.1  When  we  recall  a 
movement  or  a  series  of  movements  very  completely, 
we  seem  to  be  actually  going  over  them  again,  not  only 
in  idea  in  the  brain,  but  in  the  nerves  and  muscles,  so 
that  "in  mentally  recalling  a  verbal  train,  we  seem  to 
repeat  on  the  tongue  the  very  words ;  the  recollection 
consists  of  a  suppressed  articulation". — Prof.  Bain.  The 
fact  of  example  being  more  powerful  than  precept  may, 
perhaps,  find  its  explanation  here,  for  when  we  see  a 
thing  done  we  are  in  a  measure  doing  it  ourselves,  be- 
cause we  are  mentally  going  over  the  different  steps  of 
the  process  one  by  one. 

But  in  our  view  the  senses  are  concerned  not  only  in 
the  recalling  of  our  sensations,  but  also  of  our  ideas. 
Every  idea  in  the  mind  must  have  entered  it  by  some 
sense,  and  in  order  to  its  full  and  complete  recall,  we 
believe  that  it  must  be  again  projected  or  imaged  in  an 
organ  of  sense.  Even  the  most  abstract  of  our  ideas 
are  abstracts  of  sensations  belonging  to  some  sense 
which  is  also  concerned  in  the  recollection  of  them.  In 
every  act  of  knowledge  we  distinguish  between  the  sub- 
ject knowing  and  the  object  known, — between  the 
thinking  Ego  and  the  object  about  which  we  think.  In 
all  right  thinking  we  must  clearly  distinguish  between 
the  two,  and  hold  up  the  object  in  the  clear,  steady, 

1 "  It  is  probable,  if  not  certain,  that  the  renewed  feeling  or  idea 
occupies  the  same  parts,  and  in  the  same  manner,  as  the  original  or 
actual  feeling."— Th.  Eibot. 


302  MEMOBT. 

concentrated  light  of  consciousness.  "  Thought,'*  saya 
Heyse,  "  is  not  even  present  to  the  thinker  till  he  has 
set  it  forth  out  of  himself."1  "  We  cannot  think,"  says 
Dr.  Cunningham,  "  without  thinking  of  something,  and 
that  subject  must  be  thought  of  as  outside  the  mind. 
It  is  not  our  thoughts,  but  the  things  we  think  of  that 
are  present  to  our  consciousness ;  and  thus  our  thinking 
consists  of  a  series  of  visions."  "  In  the  act  of  estimat- 
ing what  is  right  in  morals,  or  what  is  sound  in  reason- 
ing, or  what  is  correct  in  taste,  we  no  more  look  to  the 
mind  than  we  do  in  the  act  of  estimating  what  is  true 
in  geometry,  or  of  estimating  any  of  the  properties  of 
material  substances." — Dr.  Chalmers. 

When  a  man  thus  puts  forth  the  ideas  in  his  mind 
they  become,  as  it  were,  objects  of  sense,  — things  that 
he  can  see,  hear,  or  handle.  They  are  imaged  or  re- 
presented to  the  mind  by  the  aid  of  some  sense.  The 
eye  is  the  sense  that  is  most  frequently  employed  in 
this  way,  for  it  is  usually  a  visual  image  that  we  en- 
deavour to  form  of  what  we  are  thinking  about. 
/Memory  in  our  view,  then,  is  not  simply  an  intellectual 
faculty  having  its  seat  in  the  brain,  but  is,  in  a  great 
measure,  a  sense  faculty,  including  in  its  seat  the  senses, 
the  voluntary  muscles,  and  other  parts  of  the  body.  A 
man  remembers  forms,  colours, faces,  places,  &c.,  because 
his  eye  is  naturally  strong,  and  has  been  cultivated  in 
that  direction.  When  we  cannot  readily  recollect 
something  we  wish  to  remember,  we  endeavour  to  re- 
call its  visual  appearance,  or  to  go  back  to  the  time  or 
occasion  when  it  was  previously  in  the  mind  and  an 
object  of  sense.  It  has  frequently  been  remarked  that 

1  "  The  intellectual  operations  always  imply  an  externality  ;  even 
where  we  are  speculating  about  our  own  feelings  or  mental  opera- 
tures,  we  always  view  them  as  if  apart  from  ourselves," — G.  H. 


HOW  TO   IMPROVE   IT.  303 

those  who  are  accustomed  to  deal  with  material  objects, 
or  are  much  in  converse  with  nature,  and  have  conse- 
quently their  senses  greatly  exercised,  have  great 
powers  of  memory,  and  in  the  arrangement  and  expres- 
sion of  their  thoughts.1 

The  object  of  memory  is  the  impression  or  image 
"which  is  formed  in  the  mind,  and  this  depends  upon 
the  clearness  and  accuracy  with  which  it  is  taken  up 
and  'apprehended  by  the  senses.  In  proportion,  then,  as 
we  train  and  cultivate  any  sense  do  we  improve  the 
memory  of  that  sense,  g,nd  as  we  improve  the  memory  of 
a  sense  do  we  tram~alid  cultivate  it.  The  perfection  of 
any  sense  consists  in  its  being  able  to  perceive  minute 
shades  of  differenee,  and  in  order  to^this  a  good  ^ 
memory  is  necessary, — one  having  a  strong  hold  of  past 
sensations.2  And  as  with  sensations  so  with  muscular 
movements.  We  strengthen  the  memory  of  any  set  of 
movements  by  practising  the  movements,  and  the  im- 
provement that  is  effected  through  practice  in  the  move- 
ments depends  on  the  memory  of  past  movements; 
when  that  is  strong  new  acquisitions  are  easy. 

There  are  three  principal  ways  in  which  the  mind 
receives  its  information,  and  treasures  it  up  in  the 

1  "  One  man  in  attempting  to  convey  a  notion  of  any  object  he  baa 
seen,  seems  to  place  it  before  him  and  to  paint  from  actual  perception  ; 
another,  although  not  deficient  in  ready  elocution,  finds  himself  in 
such  a  situation,  confused  and  embarrassed  among  a  number  of  parti- 
culars imperfectly  apprehended,  which  crowd  into  his  mind  without 
any  just  order  or  connection." — D.  Stewart.     "I  have  always  re- 
marked (and  so  have  most  people  who  have  read  any  scientific  work 
at  all)  the  great  power  and  command  of  language  that  is  generally 
possessed  by  persons  possessing  high  scientific  attainments." — Robt. 
Lowe. 

2  "  No  law  of  the  intellect  appears  to  be  more  certain  than 
the  law  that  connects  our  discriminating  power  with  our  retentive 
power.     In  whatever  class  of  subjects  our  discrimination  is  great — 
colours,  forms,  tones,  tastes— in  that  class  our  retention  is  great."— 
Prof.  Bain. 


304  MEMORY. 

memory.  These  are  by  seeing,  by  hearing,  and  by 
speaking  or  acting.  Some  remember  best  what  they 
see,  others  what  they  hear,  and  others  what  they  say 
or  do.  There  are  many  persons  who  do  not  remember 
much  of  what  they  see  or  hear,  but  they  remember 
well  what  they  say  or  do.  This  is  particularly  the  case 
with  children,  and  hence  they  usually  learn  their  lessons 
best  by  repeating  them  aloud.  What  is  learnt  by  rote 
is  of  this  nature.  It  is  not  by  the  eye  or  ear  so  much 
as  by  the  muscular  exertion  of  speaking  that  it  is  re- 
membered. "We  remember  our  vocal  utterances," 
says  Prof.  Bain,  "  partly  as  connected  threads  of  vocal 
exertion.  ,  .  .  Our  memory  for  spoken  language  is 
a  mixture  of  articulate  and  auditory  recollections." 
Writing  with  one's  own  hand  what  has  to  be  remem- 
bered is  a  well-known  aid  to  verbal  memory.  "  The 
effect  of  this,"  says  Prof.  Bain,  "  is  not  simply  to  add 
a  new  line  of  adhesion — the  arm  and  finger  recollections, 
although  we  might  remember  by  these, — but  to  impress 
the  forms  upon  the  eye  through  the  concentrated  atten- 
tion of  the  act  of  copying."  Mr.  Stokes  lays  great  stress 
upon  written  exercises,  but  it  is  mainly  as  addressed  to 
the  visual  memory,  so  that  the  written  words  may  be 
recalled  as  the  printed  words  of  a  book.  On  this  he 
bases  a  system  of  mental  writing.  "At  first,"  he  says, 
"  the  letters  used  in  mental  writing  should  be  slowly 
and  carefully  formed  and  combined;  but  afterwards 
the  speed  should  be  increased,  and  ultimately  whole 
words  or  sentences  ready-made  will  appear  instantly 
before  the  mind's  eye  at  pleasure."  There  can  be  no 
doubt  that  our  motor  feelings  and  motor  memory  count 
for  more  in  our  mental  phenomena  than  is  commonly 
supposed.  "  Every  conscious  state,"  says  Eibot,  "  de- 
pends to  a  certain  extent  upon  motor  elements." 


HOW  TO  IMPEOVB  IT.  305 

In  education,  then,  it  is  necessary  to  attend  to  the 
training  of  each  of  these  kinds  of  memory ;  and  in  order  to 
this  they  must  be  kept  carefully  apart,  and  each  trained 
by  itself.1  When  we  wish  to  exercise  the  visual 
memory  we  must  be  careful  not  to  call  forth  the  audi- 
tory or  muscular  memories,  nor  with  the  motor  memory 
should  the  forms  or  even  the  sounds  be  awakened. 
The  sounds  will,  doubtless,  in  some  measure,  be  pre- 
sent, and  guide  the  vocal  utterances,  but  it  should  be, 
as  it  were,  unconsciously, — the  attention  being  concen- 
trated mainly  on  the  movements,  and  one  movement 
calling  forth  another.  In  order  to  train  the  auditory 
memory,  the  pupil  should  have  the  matter  read  or  re- 
peated to  him  till  he  has  taken  it  in  by  the  ear;  in 
order  to  learn  by  sight  he  must  take  in  the  words  by 
the  eye,  and  form  visual  images  of  them,  and  to  learn 
by  means  of  the  vocal  organs  he  must  have  recourse  to 
reading  or  repeating  aloud. 

The  first  requisite  to  a  good  memory, — to  the  forma- 
tion of  clear  and  lasting  impressions, — is  sound  physical 
health,  with  all  the  functions  of  the  body  going  on 
easily  and  naturally.2  When  the  body  is  fresh  and 
vigorous,  plentifully  supplied  with  sound  arterial  blood, 
impressions  are  easily  made,  and  are  usually  lasting. 

1  "  A  common  error  into  which  beginners  are  apt  to  fall  is  to  try 
to  combine,  and  therefore  confuse,  the  two  methods  of  remembering 
by  sight  and  by  sound.  They  should  be  kept  carefully  apart." — Dr. 
M.  Granville.  "The  initial  and  prevailing  difficulty  in  teaching  lan- 
guage in  general  and  the  mother  tongue  in  particular  is  due  to  the 
doubleness  of  the  acquisition — the  union  of  language  and  thought 
.  .  .  and  the  attention  is  divided  between  the  two  factors  instead  of 
being  concentrated  upon  one  to  the  neglect  of  the  other." — Prof. 
Bain. 

3  It  is  "  obvious  that  this  organic  mental  faculty  (*.«.,  memory),  as 
at  present  possessed  even  by  the  most  highly  favoured  individuals,  is 
susceptible  of  much  enhancement  and  extension,  merely  by  an  im« 
proveinent  of  the  corporeal  constitution  ". — haac  Taylor. 


306     .  MEMORY. 

When,  on  the  other  hand,  the  body  5s  exhausted  by 
fatigue  or  disease,  or  suffers  from  want  of  nourish- 
ment or  impoverishment  of  blood,  the  impressions  will 
be  slight  and  made  with  difficulty.1  In  youth  the  body 
is  easily  impressed,  and  the  impressions  made  are  last- 
ing,2 whereas  in  old  age  impressions  are  formed  with 
difficulty,  and  are  also  difficult  of  recall.  The  time  to 
be  chosen  for  exercise  is  when  the  physical  powers  are 
most  active  and  vigorous.  Whatever  strongly  excites 
the  mind,  or  presents  itself  when  the  mind  is  under 
strong  excitement,  usually  makes  a  lasting  impression.3 
If  the  curiosity  is  strongly  excited  about  a  thing  it 
readily  fixes  itself  in  the  memory.  As  a  rule  the  mind 
looks  upon  a  thing  with  more  interest,  and  its  curiosity 
is  more  excited  concerning  it  on  its  first  appearance 
than  on  any  subsequent  occasion.  Hence  the  first 
occasion  of  an  impression  reaching  the  mind  is  always 
tlje  most  favourable  for  fixing  it  in  the  memory.4  Each 

1  "A  normal  exercise  of  the  memory  supposes  an  active  circulation 
and  blood  rich  in  the  materials  necessary  for  integration  and  disin- 
tegration."— Th.  Ribot.    "  Disturbance  to  the  memory  may  arise  from 
too  feeble  circulation  through  the  brain  as  well  as  from  over-excite- 
ment or  congestion  of  blood  there." — Sir  H.  Holland. 

2  "  In  youth  memory  is  strong,  for  then  our  sensations  are  keen." 
—Dr.  Beattie. 

*  "  That  is  likely  to  be  long  remembered  which,  at  its  first  appear- 
ance, affects  the  mind  with  a  lively  sensation,  or  with  some  pleasure- 
able  or  painful  feeling." — Dr.  Beattie. 

4  "  The  sensations  which  affect  us  the  most  are  those  which  we 
never  before  have  experienced.  The  consequence  is  that  in  propor- 
tion as  the  same  sensations  are  repeated  the  less  impression  do  they 
make  upon  us,  because  the  comparison  between  the  present  and  the 
past  becomes  less  sensible." — Dr.  Bichat.  "  The  surest  and  most 
effectual  way  to  ensure  an  easy  and  accurate  reproduction  of  ideas  is 
to  deal  with  the  first  impression.  .  .  .  Reproduction  of  ideas  is 
mainly  dependent  upon  the  strength  or  vivacity  with  which  the  ideas 
primitively  come  to  the  mind,  or,  in  other  words,  upon  the  first  im- 
pressions which  the  mind  receives.  .  .  .  Supposing  the  primitive 
ideas  to  have  been  strong  and  vivid,  their  reproduction  will  be  eaay, 
almost  spontaneous." — Dr.  Pick. 


HOW  TO  IMPROVE  IT.  807 

subsequent  recurrence  of  it  renders  it  more  familiar  to 
the  mind,  which  is  therefore  less  curious  about  it ;  and, 
besides,  the  repeated  appearance  of  the  same  impression 
under  different  circumstances  tends  to  diminish  the 
clearness  and  distinctness  of  the  original.1 

In  order  to  recall  a  previous  impression  or  idea  in  the 
fullest  and  most  complete  manner  possible,  the  same 
parts  must  be  affected  and  the  same  kind  of  motion  set 
up  as  when  it  was  originally  before  the  mind ;  that  is, 
not  only  the  brain  but  the  nerve-fibres  and  the  special 
organ  of  sense,  or  muscles  traversed  by  the  original 
movement,  must  again  be  acted  upon.  When  the 
renewed  motion  is  confined  to  the  brain  and  does  not 
extend  to  any  of  the  other  parts,  the  recalled  impression 
is  imperfect,  and  this  is  the  character  of  the  great 
majority  of  our  remembrances.  We  are  content  with 
only  a  partial  recall,  in  which  none  of  the  senses  but 
only  the  brain  is  concerned.  The  reason  why  objects 
of  sense  make  a  stronger  impression  on  the  mind  than 
ideas,  is  because  the  senses  and  the  nerves  are  concerned 
in  the  former  but  not  in  the  latter.  Did  we  bring  the 

Most  persons  find  "  that  the  first  image  they  have  acquired  of 
any  scene  is  apt  to  hold  its  place  tenaciously  in  spite  of  subsequent 
need  of  correction.  ...  If  they  see  an  object  equally  often  in  many 
positions,  the  memories  combine  and  confuse  one  another,  forming  a 
composite  blur  which  they  cannot  dissect  into  its  components.  They 
are  less  able  to  visualise  the  features  of  intimate  friends  than  those 
of  persons  of  whom  they  have  caught  only  a  single  glance," — F. 
Gallon.  "  A  person  who  leaves  a  place,  and  who  has  consequently 
no  later  associations  with  which  to  obliterate  the  earlier  ones,  looks 
back  through  a  clearer  medium,  so  to  speak,  to  a  former  period,  and  to 
the  circumstances  of  where  he  then  lived.  In  that  direction  of  his 
thoughts  nothing  seems  to  stand  between  him  and  the  distant  object 
To  one,  on  the  other  hand,  who  has  passed  through  a  long  series  of 
events  and  sociul  communications  in  the  same  neighbourhood,  these 
would  be  found  to  occupy  and  crowd  the  latter  part  of  the  retrospect 
so  much  as  possibly  to  render  the  remoter  circumstances  much  leu 
distinct." — John  Foster. 


308  MEMOEY. 

senses  and  the  nerves  to  act  along  with  the  brain  in  the 
recalled  impression,  there  is  every  reason  to  believe  that 
it  would  be  equally  clear  and  distinct  with  the  sensation. 

In  order  to  effect  this,  and  to  attain  the  highest  form 
-of  memory,  we  must  cultivate  the  faculty  of  imagina- 
tion, or  the  power  of  holding  up  to  the  mind  past  sen- 
sations or  impressions,  as  if  they  were  again  actually 
present  to  us.  We  can  retain  the  impression  of  an 
object  in  the  mind  for  some  time  after  the  object  itself 
has  passed  away  by  allowing  the  mind  to  dwell  upon  it, 
and  we  can  afterwards  readily  recall  it.  If  I  lay  an  object, 
say  my  watch,  upon  the  table  and  look  at  it  intently 
for  a  few  seconds,  I  shall  find  on  shutting  my  eyes  that 
I  still  retain  a  more  or  less  distinct  image  of  it.  I  may 
even,  after  a  considerable  time,  be  able  to  recall  the 
image  of  the  watch,  and  the  exact  spot  where  it  lay. 
If,  in  place  of  one,  I  take  three  or  four  or  half-a-dozen 
different  objects  and  arrange  them  on  the  table,  I  can, 
arter  contemplating  them  for  a  short  time,  imprint  a 
mental  image  of  them  in  the  mind,  and  can  afterwards 
i  ocall  them  with  great  distinctness.  By  practice  we 
may  largely  increase  the  number,  and  may  alsolmprmt 
them  with  great  readiness,  so  that  they  can  afterwards 
be  recalled  with  accuracy.1 

The  French  conjuror,  Robert  Houdin,  many  of 
whose  tricks  depended  on  the  renlarkable  powers  of 
memory  he  and  his  son  had  acquired,  relates  in  his 
Autobiography  that  they  would  "  pass  rapidly  before 
a  toy  shop,  or  any  other  displaying  a  variety  of  wares, 
and  east  an  attentive  glance  upon  it".  A  few  steps 

1  "A  useful  faculty,  easily  developed  by  practice,  is  that  of  retain- 
ing a  retinal  picture.  A  scene  is  flashed  upon  the  eye  ;  the  memory 
of  it  persists,  and  details  which  escaped  observation  during  the  brief 
time  when  it  was  actually  seen  may  be  analysed  and  studied  at 
leisure  in  the  subsequent  vision." — F.  Galton. 


HOW  TO  IMPROVE   IT.  309 

farther  on  they  took  paper  and  pencil  from  their  pockets, 
and  tried  which  could  describe  the  greater  number  of 
objects  seen  in  passing.  In  this,  we  are  told,  the  son 
excelled  the  father,  for  he  could  often  write  down  forty 
objects,  while  the  latter  could  scarcely  reach  thirty; 
and  yet  they  rarely  made  a  mistake.  We  cannot  sup- 
pose that  in  the  brief  glance  they  cast  on  the  shop  in 
passing  they  were  able  to  see  and  individualise  thirty 
or  fprty  different  articles.  We  can  only  account  for  it 
by  supposing  that,  in  that  brief  glance,  they  took,  as  it 
were,  a  photograph  of  the  shop  in  question,  and  with 
this  in  the  eye  before  it  vanished,  they  jotted  down  on 
paper  as  many  of  the  articles  as  they  could  distinguish. 
Should  they  afterwards  have  occasion  to  recall  this  shop 
they  would  do  so  by  reviving  the  photograph  in  the 
eye,  and  from  this  they  would  be  able  to  recount  the 
various  articles  more  readily  and  certainly  than  by  any 
other  mode  of  committing  to  memory.  "  That  power 
of  memory,"  he  says,  "  which  my  son  possessed  in  an 
eminent  degree,  did  us  the  greatest  service.  When  we 
went  to  private  houses  he  needed  only  a  very  rapid  in- 
spection in  order  to  know  all  the  objects  in  a  room,  as 
well  as  the  various  ornaments  worn  by  spectators,  such 
as  chatelaines,  pins,  eye-glasses,  fans,  brooches,  rings, 
bouquets,  &c.  He  thus  could  describe  these  objects 
with  the  greatest  ease  when  I  pointed  them  out  to  him 
by  our  secret  communication."  ATI  instance  is  also 
given  in  which  he  saw  at  a  glance  and  remembered 
the  titles  of  many  of  the  books  in  a  library  he  passed 
through  in  a  house  in  Paris. 

Nor  was  this  great  power  of  memory  a  natural  gift, 

but  was  acquired  by  great  application.     M.  Houdin 

commenced  to  teach  his  son  by  taking  "  a  domino,  the 

cinq-quater  for  instance,  and  laid  it  before  him.    In* 

22 


310  MEMOBY. 

stead  of  letting  him  count  the  points  of  the  two  num- 
bers, I  requested  the  boy  to  tell  me  the  total  at  once. 
'Nine/  he  said.  Then  I  added  another  domino,  the 
quater-troy.  *  That  maizes  sixteen/  he  said  without 
any  hesitation.  I  stopped  the  first  lesson  here;  the 
next  day  we  succeeded  in  counting  at  a  single  glance 
four  dominoes,  the  day  after  six,  and  thus  we  at  length 
were  enabled  to  give  instantaneously  the  product  of  a 
dozen  dominoes."  This  result  obtained,  they  proceeded 
to  apply  themselves  to  more  difficult  tasks. 

In  this  way  one  may  soon  learn  to  remember  all  the 
cards  that  have  been  played  in  a  game  of  whist,  which 
mere  playing  for  a  lifetime  may  fail  to  teach  him.  Let 
him  begin  by  throwing  down  four  cards  one  by  one 
upon  the  table,  observing  each  by  itself  and  the  order 
in  which  it  is  laid  down,  as  well  as  the  whole  together, 
till  he  feels  that  he  has  learnt  them.  Let  him  then 
take  them  up,  and  after  a  time  replace  them  as  they 
were  before  from  memory,  and  this  till  he  feels  that 
he  has  thoroughly  mastered  them.  For  a  second 
lesson  let  him  take  first  four  cards  and  treat  them 
in  this  way,  and  then  other  four;  and  let  him  pro- 
ceed in  this  way,  always  increasing  the  number  till 
he  can  take  in  the  whole  pack,  and  tell  of  each  card 
when  and  where  it  was  thrown  down.  That  mere 
playing  may  never  teach  a  man  this  is  owing  to  the 
attention  being  taken  up  with  the  play  and  not  suffi- 
ciently directed  to  this  operation. 

/  In  systems  of  mnemonics  we  are  taught  to  remember 
figures  by  means  of  letters  which  are  formed  into  words, 
— words  being  generally  more  easily  remembered  than 
figures.  But  if  the  eye  is  properly  trained  there  is  no 
more  difficulty  in  remembering  figures  than  words  or 
letters,  and  it  may  be  done  with  infinitely  less  trouble. 


HOW  TO  IMPEOVE  IT.  311 

Commence  with  two  or  three  figures  on  a  black  board 
or  slate,  regard  them  attentively  for  a  short  time,  so 
that  they  may  be  well  impressed  on  the  retina,  then  rub 
them  out,  and  afterwards  restore  them  from  memory. 
Let  the  number  of  figures  be  gradually  increased  in 
subsequent  exercises,  and  in  a  short  time  one  will  find  no 
difficulty  in  fixing  in  the  mind  large  sums  or  a  number 
of  dates  by  simply  looking  at  them.  Care  should  be  taken 
not  to  name  or  pronounce  any  of  the  figures,  because, 
in  so  doing,  we  distract  the  attention  by  bringing  into 
exercise  other  forms  of  memory, — the  auditory  or  the 
muscular, — whereas,  at  present,  we  wish  only  to  train 
the  visual.  And  as  with  figures,  so  with  names,  words, 
sentences,  and  the  like.  We  believe  it  to  be  possible  by 
practice  to  photograph,  as  it  were,  on  the  retina  page  after 
page  of  a  book  by  simply  glancing  over  each,  and  to  after- 
wards repeat  their  contents  word  for  word,  as  if  reading 
them  from  the  printed  page.  "The  scholar,"  says 
Eichter,  "when  he  reflects  .  .  .  really  seems  to  read 
a  printed  page;  and  when  he  speaks  to  give  a  little 
declamation  out  of  a  quickly  and  well-written  pamphlet." 
And  as  with  sight,  so  with  the  other  senses  of  hear- 
ing, feeling,  tasting,  and  smelling.  We  cultivate  the 
imaginative  faculty  in  each  and  all  of  them  by  training  I 
the  mind  to  dwell  upon  the  original  impression,  and  to 
recall  it  in  its  entirety  afterwards.  We  can  retain  the 
impression  of  a  sound  upon  the  ear  for  some  time  after 
it  has  passed  away,  and  by  cultivating  this  power  we 
can  subsequently  recall  any  sound  we  have  heard  with 
great  accuracy.  The  like  is  true  of  our  muscular  move- 
ments :  by  going  over  them  step  by  step  mentally  we 
can  afterwards  readily  recall  them.  In  all  these  cases 
the  principle  at  work  is  the  same, — it  is  the  calling 
again  into  action  of  the  parts  that  were  concerned  in  the 


31 2  MEMORY. 

original  sensation  or  movement,  and  our  training  should 
be  directed  to  this  end. 

Education  is  the  great  means  by  which  the  memory 
is  made  either  good  or  bad.  Nothing  can  do  more  for 
its  improvement  than  a  rightly  conducted  system  of 
education,  and  nothing  can  do  more  to  injure  it  than 
one  wrongly  conducted.  Unfortunately  our  present  day 
education  partakes  more  of  the  latter  than  the  former. 
We  may  say  of  memory  what  the  authors  of  the  Port 
Eoyal  Logic  say  of  reason, — we  employ  it  "  merely  as 
an  instrument  for  acquiring  the  sciences,  whereas  we 
ought  to  avail  ourselves  of  the  sciences  as  an  instru- 
ment for  perfecting  our  memory".  The  great  business 
of  education  should  be  the  cultivation  of  the  memory, 
for  upon  this  everything  else  depends.  By  means  of  it 
we  develop  and  instruct  the  intellect,  build  up  the 
moral  character,  and  even  train  the  physical  powers. 
"  The  leading  inquiry  in  the  Art  of  Education/*  says 
Prof.  Bain,  "  is  how  to  strengthen  the  memory." 

It  may  well  be  questioned  whether  the  great  powers 
of  memory  displayed  by  young  children  are  not  sub- 
sequently lost  mainly  through  wrong  methods  of 
teaching.1  When  a  child  first  sees  a  thing  it  takes 

1  "  At  the  age  of  six  years  a  child  will  learn  the  common  words 
of  a  language  in  less  than  twelve  months  if  he  hear  it  continually 
spoken  ;  which,  as  he  acquires  the  pronunciation  and  accent  as  well 
as  the  meaning,  is  a  proof  not  only  of  quick  memory,  but  also  of  an 
exact  ear  and  of  great  flexibility  in  the  organs  of  articulation.  .  .  . 
As  we  advance  in  life  the  acquisition  of  languages  becomes  more  and 
more  difficult ;  the  talent  of  remembering  new  words  decays  gradu- 
ally, nor  is  the  ear  so  quick  in  catching  a  foreign  accent,  or  the 
organs  of  speech  so  pliable  in  articulating  unusual  sounds." — Dr.  J. 
Beattie.  A  child  ten  years  old,  "  by  dint  of  a  succession  of  efforts  of 
observation,  imitation,  and  repetition,  at  very  short  intervals  con- 
trives both  to  understand  and  to  speak  a  foreign  language  in  a  few 
weeks.  This  twofold  process  baffles  an  adult,  because  ...  he  tries 
rather  to  understand  than  to  reproduce  what  is  spoken.7' — T.  Pren* 
dergast. 


HOW  TO  IMPROVE  IT.  313 

it  in  by  the  eye,  when  it  first  hears  a  thing  it  takes 
it  in  by  the  ear;  in  each  case  the  whole  mind  is 
concentrated  upon  the  sensation,  which,  as  Dr.  Car- 
penter says,  "is  the  natural  state 'of  the  infant". 
But  as  soon  as  its  education  begins  all  this  is  changed, 
and  the  mind,  in  place  of  being  concentrated  upon 
one  thing,  is  distracted  by  several.1  We  have  said 
that  in  order  to  impress  a  thing  clearly  and  accurately 
upon  the  mind,  we  must  contemplate  it  by  itself,  for 
the  mind  cannot  be  in  two  places  or  engaged  in  two 
operations  at  the  same  instant  of  time ;  further,  that 
it  passes  more  readily  and  easily  from  one  object  to 
another  of  the  same  kind  than  from  one  to  another  of 
different  kinds, — from  one  object  of  sight  to  another 
or  one  sound  to  another,  than  from  an  object  of  sight 
to  a  sound,  or  a  sound  to  an  object  of  sight.  These 
ought  to  be  leading  principles  in  every  rightly  con- 
ducted system  of  education,  but,  unfortunately,  they 
are  almost  totally  ignored.  To  take  the  earliest,  and 
what  should  be  made  the  simplest  and  easiest,  process 
to  the  child,  that  of  learning  the  alphabet,  we  have  three 
distinct  operations, — we  have  the  form  of  each  letter  to 
be  apprehended  by  the  eye,  the  sound  to  be  taken  up 
by  the  ear,  and  the  pronunciation  to  be  mastered  by  the 
tongue.  In  the  ordinary  way  the  child  is  expected  to 
carry  on  these  three  operations  at  one  and  the  same 
time,  and  hence  none  of  them  is  efficiently  performed, 
for  when  the  mind  is  attempting  to  apprehend  the 
form  it  cannot  give  sufficient  attention  to  the  sound, 
nor  to  the  form  when  attending  to  the  sound,  nor  to 


1  "The  methods  of  education  should  recognise  the  wise  arrange- 
ment of  nature  in  developing  and  maturing  the  memory.  In  tho 
earlier  periods  of  life  the  spontaneous  memory  should  be  stimulated 
and  enriched  by  appropriate  studies." — N.  Porter. 


314  MEMOBY. 

cither  when  taken  np  with  the  pronunciation.1  In- 
stead of  this  the  child's  ear  should  first  of  all  be  accus- 
tomed to  the  sounds  of  the  different  letters,  arranged 
not  in  their  alphabetical  order,  but  according  to  their 
sounds,  beginning  with  the  simplest,  even  before  he 
attempts  to  utter  them.2  There  can  be  no  doubt  that 
children  learn  much  by  the  ear  ID  infancy  before  they 
can  speak  or  utter  articulate  sounds.8  Then,  as  a  next 
step,  let  him  be  taught  to  repeat  accurately  the  different 
sounds  as  he  hears  them;  and  only  when  he  can  do 
this  perfectly  should  he  be  made  acquainted  with  the 
forms  of  the  different  letters.  Thus,  the  sounds  of  the 
different  letters  will  be  clearly  and  accurately  imprinted 
on  the  ear,  and  the  different  forms  on  the  eye,  while 
the  vocal  organs  will  also  have  learnt  their  correct  pro- 
nunciation. 
After  the  alphabet  the  child  should  be  taught  to  pro- 

1  "  Why  thould  he  (i.e.,  a  child)  be  troubled  with  the  form  of  the 
letters  till  once  he  has  acquired  the  sound  of  them  ?    Why  should  he 
be  taught  to  read  before  he  is  taught  to  speak  ? " — John  Herries. 

2  J.  Brinsly,  in  his  " Ludus  Literarius,  or  the  Grammar  School" 
(1612),  dwelling  upon  the  importance  of  the  child  acquiring  a  correct 
pronunciation  of  each  letter,  says  :  "  This  may  be  done,  and  also  the 
teaching  of  children  to  spell  any  syllable  before  the  child  do  know 
any  letter  on  the  booke,  and  that  some  wise  and  experienced  do  hold 
the  surest  and  best  course  ".     Pestalozzi  says  :  "  When  I  had  begun 
to  teach  reading  I  found  out,  after  a  while,  that  my  pupils  wanted 
first  to  be  taught  speaking,"  and  this  led  him  to  begin  with  teaching 
pronunciation.     Before  his  pupils  were  taught  reading,  or  even  the 
alphabet,  he  exercised  them  in  articulating  not  only  the  elementary 
sounds  of  the  language,  but  also  their  most  difficult  combinations, 
until  they  could  pronounce  them  easily  and  correctly.     "  Sound  is 
the  leading  element  in  language  both  spoken  and  written.     We  hear 
the  words  even  when  we  see  them,  but  we  do  not  see  them  when  we 
hear  them.    The  visible  symbols  are  accessory  and  subordinate. 
But  to  the  born  deaf  the  visible  symbols  dominate." — G.  H.  Lewes. 

8  M  It  is  notorious  that  children  and  animals  are  affected  by  our 
voices  when  quite  incapable  of  understanding  the  meaning  of  our 
words." — G.  H.  Lewes. 


HOW  TO  IMPBOVE  IT.  315 

nonnce  single  syllables,  and  then  words  of  two  or  three 
syllables.  In  imparting  a  correct  pronunciation,  the 
words  chosen  should  be  such  as  convey  no  connected 
meaning  to  the  mind,  for  the  meaning  tends  to  with- 
draw the  attention  from  the  sound  ;  and  hence  children 
learn  unmeaning  words  and  phrases  much  sooner  than 
such  as  have  meaning.  On  this  account  some  recom- 
mend the  taking  the  words  of  a  sentence  backwards. 
"  The  object  in  taking  the  words  in  backward  order," 
sayg  C.  W.  Smith,  "is  to  disassociate  them  from  their 
sense  as  connected  with  the  sentence,  so  that  the 
student  can  .  ,  give  his  entire  attention  to  the  mere 
utterance  of  the  words  instead  of  being  wholly  or  partly 
occupied  with  the  meaning  or  feeling  of  the  language."1 
In  this  way  a  correct  pronunciation  is  acquired  at  first 
in  place  of  a  faulty  one  which  has  afterwards  to  be  cor- 
rected. In  order  that  the  ear  may  form  correct  im- 
pressions of  sound,  the  child  should  be  read  to  before 
he  attempts  to  read  himself;  and  as  the  ear  and  not 
the  eye  is  the  proper  guide  to  the  tongue,  he  should  be 
accustomed  to  repeat  from  having  read  or  repeated  to 
him.2  Spelling,  on  the  other  hand,  should  be  taught 

1  "  The  pupil  should  be  able  to  concentrate  his  attention  entirely 
upon  the  mechanism  of  the  matter,  instead  of  having  his  mind  partly 
or  wholly  directed  to  the  language,  as  it  should  be  in  reading  or 
reciting  passages."— G.  W.  Smith.  "It  would,  of  course,  be  more 
amusing  to  recite  connected  than  unconnected  words,  as  it  is  more 
amusing  to  sing  passages  than  single  notes ;  but  as  assuredly  no 
singing  voice  ever  yet  was  formed  by  the  exclusive  utterance  of  any- 
thing that  could  be  called  music,  so  no  speaking  voice  will  ever  yet 
be  formed  by  the  exclusive  utterance  of  anything  that  can  be  called 
literature." — John  Hullah. 

*  "There  is  reason  to  believe  that  the  incitations  which  evoke  speech 
start  primarily  from  the  auditory  word  centre."— Dr.  Bastian. 
misleading  principle  of  governing  the  voice  by  forms  of  language  baa 
done  much  to  hinder  the  progress  of  elocutionary  science. —A.  to 
Bell     "As  to  him  that  learns  from  another  person  who  reads  to  him 
.  .  .  after  he  has  heard  a  passage  once  or  twice,  he  may  immediately 


31 G  MEMORY, 

not  orally  but  visually,  by  accustoming  the  eye  to  the 
appearance  of  the  words.1 

In  teaching  a  foreign  language,  the  method  usually 
adopted  is  so  contrary  to  the  principles  we  have  been 
endeavouring  to  lay  down,  that  it  may  be  said  tu  be 
"  the  way  not  to  do  it ".  It  seems  mainly  designed 
to  give  the  teacher  as  little  to  do  as  possible,  and  the 
pupil  as  much  as  possible.  The  ear  is  the  organ  that 
should  be  chiefly  employed  in  the  learning  of  a  foreign 
language, — the  ear  to  take  up  the  sounds  when  spoken, 
and  to  guide  the  tongne  in  speaking.2  But  in  place  of 
teaching  by  the  ear,  it  is  much  easier  for  the  master  to 
teach  by  the  eye, — making  the  pupil  read  books,  learn 
grammar  rules,  and  turn  up  words  in  a  dictionary.3  A 
language  learnt  simply  from  books  can  never  be  used 
with  any  degree  of  readiness,  for  the  words  present 
themselves  as  they  appear  to  the  eye  in  place  of  as  they 

begin  to  try  his  memory  and  attempt  to  rival  the  reader." — Quintilian. 
In  reading  aloud,  "  if  we  are  not  accustomed  to  it,  the  sound  of  our 
voice  and  the  fear  of  going  wrong,  will  withdraw  our  attention  and 
prevent  remembrance  ". — Dr.  J.  Beattie. 

lu  Spelling  shouM  never  be  taught  orally.  It  is  required  for 
writing, — only  for  the  eye ;  and  it  should  therefore  (at  this  early 
stage)  be  taught  only  by  dictation." — Sonnenschein  and  Meiklejohn. 
"  The  memory  for  spelling  lies  more  in  the  eye  than  in  the  ear  ;  the 
orthography  of  words  is  associated  less  with  the  sounds  of  their  com- 
ponent letters  than  with  the  pictorial  aspect  of  the  verbal  combina- 
tions as  a  whole." — A.  M.  Bell. 

8  "  All  languages  both  learned  and  mother  tongues  be  gotten,  and 
gotten  solely,  by  imitation.  For  as  ye  use  to  hear,  so  ye  learn  to 
speak." — R.  Ascham.  "  By  far  the  shortest  way  to  learn  to  read  a 
language  is  to  begin  by  speaking  it.  The  colloquial  tongue  is  the 
basis  of  the  literary  tongue." — P.  G.  Hamerton. 

1  "  Languages  are  then  spoken  in  greatest  perfection  when  all  rules 
of  grammar  are  utterly  forgotten.'3-— John  Locke.  "  A  dictionary 
causes  grievous  interruption  to  the  trains  of  thought,  besides  involv- 
ing loss  of  time,  uncertainty,  misdirection,  and  confusion  .  .  .  and 
it  ought  never  to  be  resorted  to  when  a  native  is  at  hand,  or  when  a 
translation  is  available." — T.  Prendergast. 


HOW  TO   IMPROVE   IT. 

strike  the  ear.1  "  Languages,"  says  John  Locke,  "  are 
only  to  be  learnt  by  rote  ...  so  that  having  thought 
of  the  thing  he  would  speak  of,  his  tongue,  of  course, 
without  thought  of  rule  or  grammar,  falls  into  the 
proper  expression  and  idiom  of  that  language."  But  a 
language  learnt  by  means  of  a  grammar  and  the 
application  of  grammar  rules  is  not  learnt  by  rote, 
but  by  a  process  of  reasoning,  which  is  also  called 
intp  operation  in  selecting  the  proper  words  in  a 
dictionary ;  from  which,  as  Ascham  says,  he  "  learneth 
first  an  evil  choice  of  words,  then  a  wrong  placing  of 
words,  and  lastly,  an  ill-framing  of  sentences,  with  a 
perverse  judgment  both  of  words  and  sentences".2 
"  Hence,"  as  Milton  says,  "  we  spend  seven  or  eight 
years  in  merely  scraping  together  as  much  miserable 
Latin  and  Greek  as  might  be  learnt  otherwise  easily 
and  delightfully  in  one  year." 

In  learning  a  foreign  language  the  ear  of  the  pupil 
should  first  of  all  be  familiarised  with  the  different 
sounds  even  before  he  attempts  to  utter  them,  still  more 
before  seeing  them  in  print.  If  the  sounds  are  once 
mastered  by  the  ear  it  will  guide  to  the  correct  pronun- 
ciation of  them,  after  which  the  association  of  them 
with  their  appropriate  letters  and  words  will  be  a  matter 
of  little  difficulty.  For  the  learning  of  languages  it  is 
of  the  utmost  importance  to  have  an  ear  well  trained 
to  distinguish  and  retain  every  variety  of  sound,  and 
vocal  organs  capable  of  giving  them  accurate  expression. 

1  "  To  understand  a  language  by  the  eye  and  by  the  ear  are  dis- 
tinct attainments  .  .  .  and  a  person  who  reads  a  dead  language 
fluently  and  with  accuracy  may  be  incapable  of  understanding  it 
otherwise  than  very  imperfectly  when  spoken." — Dr.  StmcmlU. 

2  The  less  reasoning  that  is  brought  to  bear  upon  the  sounds  when 
they  are  first  uttered  for  imitation,  the  better  chance  will  there  be  of 
success."— T.  Prendergatt, 


318  MEMORY. 

Mezzofanti  is  said  to  have  possessed  a  retentive 
memory,  a  quick  ear,  and  an  incredible  flexibility  of 
the  organs  of  speech. 

The  Prendergast  system  of  teaching  languages  pro- 
ceeds very  much  upon  the  plan  we  advocate,  except 
that  it  does  not  make  the  training  of  the  ear  a  distinct 
process,  as  we  are  inclined  to  do.  At  the  outset  a  cer- 
tain number  of  sentences  are  "  committed  to  memory 
one  by  one  very  perfectly  from  the  teacher's  voice, 
without  seeing  their  symbols  on  paper  or  even  imagin- 
ing their  spelling".  "Every  sentence  of  a  new  lan- 
guage," he  says,  "must  be  regarded  as  an  indivisible, 
inseparable  combination,  until  the  memory  has  grasped 
it  securely.  .  .  .  No  clause  or  phrase  is  to  be  analysed, 
or  even  divided  into  words,  until  an  easy  and  correct 
utterance  of  the  whole  of  its  combined  sounds  has  been 
obtained."1  A  translation  may  then  be  received  of  each 
word,  but  the  learner  must  not  ask  for  the  nominative 
case,  or  the  root  or  any  other  variety  of  any  word. 
"  There  must  be  no  hesitation  in  the  delivery;  but  the 
learner  must  be  prompted  whether  he  likes  it  or  not, 
whenever  a  word  does  not  come  instantaneously  to  his 

*  w  The  construction  of  the  sentence  being  studiously  concealed 
from  him  ...  he  does  not  know  which  of  the  new  sounds,  or  how 
many  of  them,  belong  to  each  word,  and  he  can  form  no  idea  of  the 
meaning  of  any  one  syllable.  This  ignorance  is  his  safeguard  in  re- 
spect to  pronunciation  ;  for  if  he  understood  the  words  he  would 
infallibly  employ  the  peculiar  intonation,  the  accents,  the  cadences, 
and  the  emphases  of  his  own  language,  because  they  have  become 
habitual  to  him."  The  beginner  must  keep  "  his  reasoning  powers 
in  abeyance,  and  his  imagination  under  control,  until  he  can  utter 
the  first  sentence  with  a  good  intonation,  as  if  it  were  only  one  long 
word.  .  .  .  The  memory  and  the  understanding  have  so  little  given 
them  to  do,  that  the  attention  may  be  concentrated  on  the  pronun- 
ciation."— T.  Prendergast.  "  The  less  you  understand  of  a  language, 
the  more  sensible  you  are  to  the  melody  or  harshness  of  its  sounds.* 
— T.  De  Quincey. 


HOW  TO  IMPROVE  IT.  319 

lips.*  To  hesitate  or  to  doubt  leads  to  reason  and 
reflection,  which  are  hostile  to  memory.  Afterwards 
he  is  to  practise  new  varieties  of  sentences  with  the  aid 
of  a  paradigm,  or  table  of  inflections,  prepared  so  that 
the  eye  may  command  at  one  view  the  whole  of  the 
terminations  of  all  the  variable  parts  of  speech.  Sub- 
sequently he  is  to  read  some  foreign  book  with  a  native, 
with  the  aid  of  a  translation, — the  learner  reading  out 
from  the  translation  a  clause  or  short  sentence  to  the 
native,  whose  business  it  will  be  to  read  aloud  in  return 
the  corresponding  foreign  words,— the  pupil  following 
the  reader's  course  with  the  eye,  and  carefully  echoing 
the  tones  of  his  voice,  not  word  by  word  but  clause 
by  clause.  These  principles  will  be  understood  when 
it  is  borne  in  mind  that  the  mind  is  differently  placed 
in  acquiring  sights,  sounds,  vocal  movements,  and  in- 
telligible ideas,  all  of  which  are  included  in  learning  a 
language.1 

In  learning  to  write  there  are  two  distinct  operations 
to  be  mastered.  There  are  the  forms  of  the  different 
letters  to  be  impressed  on  the  eye,  and  the  copying  of 
them  to  be  effected  by  the  hand.2  In  place  of  carrying 
on  these  two  operations  together  the  eye  should  first  be 
familiarised  with  the  forms  of  the  different  letters,  and 
afterwards  they  should  be  written  not  from  a  copybook 
but  from  dictation — not  from  examples  before  the  eye, 

1  "  Kussmaul  says  :  '  If  we  consider  memory  as  a  general  function 
of  the  nervous  system,  there  must  be,  for  the  combination  of  sounds 
into  words,  at  once  an  acoustic  memory  and  a  motor  memory*. 
Memory  of  words  is  thus  double  :  (1)  there  is  a  memory  for  words, 
as  far  as  they  may  be  regarded  as  groups  of  acoustic  phenomena ; 
(2)  there  is  another  memory  for  words,  as  motor  images." — IK  RiboL 

2  "  When  we  learn  to  write  we  fix  the  eyes  upon  a  copy ;  the 
visual  signs  are  registered  in  the  brain,  and  then,  with  great  effort, 
we  learn  to  reproduce  them  by  movement  of  the  hand.  .  .  .  We  are 
able  to  write  only  when  the  visual  signs  are  translated  immediately 
into  movements." — Th.  Ribot. 


820  MEMOEY. 

but  from  impressions  formed  in  the  memory.1  It  might 
be  well,  too,  that  the  hand  be  trained  to  perform  the 
various  movements  that  are  involved  in  writing  before 
actually  beginning  to  write.2 

In  the  teaching  of  arithmetic  Mr.  Bidder  laid  great 
stress  upon  having  the  actual  numbers  vividly  impressed 
upon  the  mind  in  place  of  the  mere  symbols  of  them. 
To  this  he  attributed  his  wonderful  power  of  mental 
calculation,  and  expressed  his  strong  conviction  that 
most  children,  if  taught  in  this  way,  might  achieve 
similar  results.3  We  are  told  that  before  he  was  six 
years  old,  when  he  was  sent  to  school,  and  when  he  did 
not  know  the  common  numerical  symbols,  he  was 
.  accustomed  to  amuse  himself  by  arranging  peas, 
marbles,  or  the  like  in  rows  and  squares  of  different 
numbers,  and  by  counting  them  over  to  ascertain  the 
results  of  the  combinations.  Thus  8  rows  of  8  =  64, 
10  rows  of  10  =  100.  Hence  the  figures  did  not  pre- 
sent themselves  to  him  merely  as  symbols,  but  they 
represented  to  his  mind  an  equal  number  of  definite 

1  "  There  is  reason  to  believe  that  the  incitations  which  evoke 
writing  movements  start  primarily  from  the  visual  word-centres." — 
Dr.  Bastian. 

2  "  No  person  is  prepared  to  begin  to  write  until  the  hand,  arm, 
and  fingers  have  been  so  trained  or  drilled  that  they  have  become 
perfect  instruments  of  the  will  for  the  purpose  of  executing  all  the 
movements  involved  in  writing.     All  the  time  given  before  that 
ability  is  attained,  to  practise  after  copies,  is  time  very  unprotitably 
passed,  and  is  calculated  to  confirm  the  worst  of  habits  in  the  use  of 
the  pen." — A.  Maclaren. 

8  "  I  have  for  many  years  entertained  a  strong  conviction  that 
mental  arithmetic  can  "be  taught  as  easily,  if  not  even  with  greater 
facility  than  ordinary  arithmetic,  and  that  it  may  be  rendered  con- 
ducive to  more  useful  purposes  than  that  of  teaching  by  rule  ;  that 
it  may  be  taught  in  such  a  way  as  to  strengthen  the  reasoning 
powers  of  the  youthful  mind — so  to  enlarge  it  as  to  ennoble  it  and 
render  it  capable  of  embracing  all  knowledge,  particularly  thai 
appertaining  to  the  exact  sciences." — G.  P.  Bidder. 


HOW  TO  IMPROVE  IT.  321 

objects.  He  never  went  beyond  100.  In  this  way  he 
taught  himself  the  values  and  relations  of  the  actual 
numbers,  and  acquired  a  marvellous  facility  in  dealing 
with  them.  He  could  multiply  a  row  of  fifteen  figures 
by  another  row  of  the  same  number,  and  give  the  actual 
result  in  a  few  minutes  without  seeing  or  writing  down 
a  single  figure. 

'  Till  a  man  has  had  considerable  practice,  there 
are,,"  says  James  Mill,  "  few  acts  of  the  mind  more 
toilsome  "  than  "  the  addition  of  a  long  column  of  num- 
bers";1 and  yet,  if  properly  learnt,  there  is  no  reason 
why  this  should  be  the  case.     If  we  analyse  the  opera- 
tion of  addition,   we  find  that  it  consists  in  bringing 
together  two  sums  and  associating  them  with  a  third 
sum.     Thus,  6  and  7  are  13 ;  13  and  6  —  19 ;  19  and  9 
=  28 ;  28  and  6  =  34 ;  and  so  on.     Now,  if  we  concen- 
trate the  attention  upon  each  of  these  groups  by  itself, 
and  associate  them  together  in  the  mind,  so  that  after- 
wards, whenever  the  two  former  occur,  the  third,  being 
their  sum,  will  at  once  come  up ;  and  if  we  treat  every 
association  of  units  with  units,  or  units  with  tens,  in 
the  same  way,  then  one  may  sum  up  a  whole  column 
of  figures  almost  at  sight.     This  is  best  done  by  simply 
using  the  eye  without  naming  the  figures.     That  we 
fail  in  being  able  to  do  this  now  is  owing  to  the  f;u  t 
that  the  two  sums  are  not  sufficiently  associated  in 
the  mind  with  the  third  for  the  latter  to  come  up  at 

1  "  The  reason  is  that  the  names  of  the  numbers  which  cm  respond 
to  the  different  steps  do  not  rea<lily  occur  ;  that  is,  are  not  Mn.; 
associated  with  the  names  which  precede  them.     Thus,  7  added  to  5 
make  12  ;  but  the  antecedent  7  added  to  5  is  not  strongly  assori.r    I 
with  the  consequent  12  in  the  mind  of  the  learner,  and  lie  has  to 
wait  and  search  till  the  name  occurs.     Thus,  a<;niii,  1-aml  7  make 
19  ;  19  and  8  make  27,  and  so  on  to  any  amount ;  but  it  tii< 
of  the  learner  has  been  small,  the  association  in  ra«-b  in.-uuice  is  iiu« 
periectj  and  the  process  irksome  and  slow." — Jos.  Mill* 


322  MEMOKY. 

once,  but  it  is  usually  arrived  at  after  a  process  of 
thought  and,  perhaps,  of  finger-counting.  Let  a  man 
once  learn  thoroughly  that  9  and  8  are  17,  and  he 
learns  it  for  ever,  but  he  will  never  learn  it  thoroughly 
if  he  immediately  adds  and  6  =  23,  and  7  =  30.  The 
mind  must  dwell  upon  the  one  set  of  figures,  and 
thoroughly  master  it  before  proceeding  to  the  next. 

In  learning  by  heart  we  usually  attempt  to  master 
too  much  at  once,  and  hence  the  impressions  formed 
in  the  mind  lack  clearness  and  distinctness.  The  better 
way  is  to  take  only  a  few  words  at  a  time,  perhaps  only 
two  or  three,  so  as  to  have  little  difficulty  in  fixing 
them  clearly  in  the  mind,  then  a  few  more,  being  .care- 
ful to  confine  the  attention  to  the  words  immediately 
before  it.1 

Probably  there  is  nothing  more  hurtful  to  the 
memory  than  the  system  of  cramming  that  so  largely 
characterises  the  education  of  the  present  day.  "  Cram- 
ming," says  Prof.  Bain,  "is  a  scheme  for  making  tem- 
porary acquisitions  regardless  of  the  endurance  of 
them,"  and  "  is  extremely  unfavourable  to  permanent 
acquisitions ".  The  analogy  evidently  is,  as  Dr.  Car- 
penter says,  "  to  the  overloading  of  the  stomach  with  a 
mass  of  food,  too  great  to  be  digested  and  assimilated 
within  a  given  time,  so  that  a  large  part  of  it  passes  out 
of  the  body  without  having  been  applied  to  any  good 
purpose  in  it".  "Everyone  is  aware/*  he  continues, 
"that  what  is  rapidly  learnt  ...  is  very  commonly 

1  In  committing  to  memory  "  it  is  proper  that  we  dwell  on  every 
part  till  we  have  thoroughly  acquired  it  before  we  proceed  to  any 
other". — Dr.  Gerard.  "  In  learning  a  language  the  leading  principle 
is  to  learn  a  very  little  at  "a  time  ;  not  in  a  loose,  careless  way,  but 
perfectly." — T.  Prendergast.  "A  person  ought  at  first  to  commit 
every  word  and  syllable  to  heart  whatever  trouble  it  may  cost  him  ; 
for  this  will  most  speedily  perfect  the  habit  of  remembering,  and 
make  it  more  easj  for  him  to  remember  afterwards." — Dr.  Gerard. 


HOW  TO  IMPROVE  IT,  823 

forgotten  as  quickly,  one  set  of  ideas  driving  out  an- 
"  Individuals  often  remember  clearly  and  well 
up  to  the  time  when  they  have  to  use  their  knowledge 
and  then,  when  it  is  no  further  required,  there  fallows 
a  rapid  and  extensive  decay  of  the  traces."— #  Verdon.1 

Learn  to  trust  the  memory,  and,  in  order  to  trust  it, 
strive  to  make  it  worthy  to  be  trusted.2  It  grows  in 
trustworthiness  by  being  trusted.  "  By  trusting  his 
metaory,  even  though  it  oftens  fails  him,  and  by  giving 
himself  up  with  undivided  attention  to  what  he  would 
remember,  any  person  may  increase  his  powers  of 
memory  to  any  degree."  Sir  Philip  "Warwick  says  of 
Jjord  Stratford  :  "  His  memory  was  great,  and  he  made 
it  greater  by  confiding  in  it ". 

AH  doubting,  suspecting,  questioning,  of  the  memory 
should  be  avoided  as  being  highly  prejudicial  to  it. 
"  Spoil  not  thy  memory,"  says  Thomas  Fuller,  "  with 
thine  .own  jealousy,  nor  make  it  bad  by  suspecting  it. 
How  canst  thou  find  that  true  which  thou  wilt  not 
trust?"  Dr.  Adam  Clarke  relates,  in  his  Autobio- 
graphy, that  when  a  young  man  in  a  shop,  soon  after 
his  conversion,  he  became  possessed  with  the  idea  of 
asserting  nothing  of  whcih  he  was  not  absolutely  cer- 
tain, and  the  result  was  that  he  lost  certainty  of  any- 

1  Dr.  Abercrombie  gives  the  case  of  a  distinguished  actor  who  was 
called,  on  a  few  hours'  notice,  to  take  a  part  that  was  entirely  new  to 
luin.     "He  acquired  it  in  a  very  short  time,  and  went  through  it 
with  perfect  accuracy,  but  immediately  after  the  performance  forgot 
it  to  such  a  degree  that,  though  he  performed  the  character 
several  days  in  succession,  he  was  obliged  every  day  to  study  it 
anew.     Characters  which  he  had  acquired  in  a  more  deliberate 
manner  he  never  forgets,  but  can  perform  them  at  any  time  without 
a  moment's  preparation." 

2  "  Learn  to  trust  your  memory  and  not  be  always  viewing  it 
with  suspicion." — W.  Stokes.     4t  The  memory  should  be  brought  to 
such  a  condition  by  exercise  that  one  may  never  learn  to  excuse  iu 
failures." — Quintilian. 


324  MEMOBY. 

thing.  If  asked  if  he  had  done  such  a  thing,  or  gone 
such  a  message,  he  would  reply  that  he  thought  he  had, 
but  he  was  not  sure,  perhaps  he  hadn't.  In  fact,  his 
memory  became  utterly  useless  for  any  practical  pur- 
pose. No  reliance  could  be  placed  on  it  either  by  him. 
self  or  others.  "He  either  forgot  to  do  what  he  was 
ordered,  or  forgot  when  he  had  done  it  ...  and 
wondered  to  find  the  work  done  which  he  had  been 
sent  to  execute,  though  himself  a  little  before  had  been 
the  agent."  "  He  prayed  much,  immediately  forgot 
that  he  had  prayed,  and  went  to  prayer  again."  It 
was  only  after  a  lengthened  period  of  careful  exercise 
that  he  was  able  to  overcome  this  weakness,  but  his 
memory  never  came  to  be  what  it  was  before,  though 
he  afterwards  rose  to  eminence. 

It  not  unfrequently  happens  that  the  more  a  person 
endeavours  to  recall  a  thing,  the  more  it  seems  to  elude 
his  grasp.  The  very  effort  to  recover  it  seems  rather 
to  drive  or  keep  it  away.1  In  such  a  case  there  should 
be  no  attempt  to  force  the  memory,  or  to  keep  it  on  the 
subject,  for  this  only  injures  it.2  It  will  be  more  likely 
to  recur  to  us  if  we  turn  the  attention  to  something 
else.  "If,"  says  Hartley,  "the  desire  (to  recollect  a 
thing  that  has  escaped  us)  be  great  it  changes  the  state 
of  the  brain,  and  has  an  opposite  effect,  so  that  the 

1MWe  frequently  experience,  when  we  are  doubtful  about  the 
spelling  of  a  word,  that  the  greater  voluntary  exertion  we  use,  that 
is,  the  more  intensely  we  think  about  it,  the  farther  are  we  from  re- 
gaining the  lost  association  between  the  letters  of  it,  but  vvhich 
readily  recurs  when  we  have  become  careless  about  it.  ...  So  in 
endeavouring  to  recall  to  our  memory  some  particular  word  of  a 
Bentence,  if  we  exert  ourselves  too  strongly  about  it  we  are  less  likely 
to  regain  it."— Dr.  E.  Darwin. 

1 "  Recollection — that  is,  the  effort  of  the  will  to  recover  what  is 
laid  up  in  the  memory — cannot  be  carried  beyond  a  particular 
point  without  inducing  a  certain  confusion  of  mind  hurtful  to  the 
faculty  itself,  and  probably  to  others  also."— Dr.  Forbes  Wvuskw. 


HOW  TO  IMPROVE  IT.  32") 

desired  idea  does  not  recur  till  all  has  subsided ;  per- 
haps not  even  then."  "  The  first  mistrust  of  memory," 
says  Sir  H.  Holland,  "leads  many  persons  to  tax  it  in 
the  way  of  trial.  .  .  .  They  persist  in  harassing  efforts 
to  recover  a  word,  a  name,  or  a  number  .  .  .  whereas 
the  labour  of  the  attempt  is  in  itself  the  cause  of  present 
failure,  and  of  future  mischief  if  often  repeated.  .  .  . 
The  apprehension  of  inability  actually  creates  it,  and 
one,  failure  begets  another." 

Further,  in  order  to  improve  and  strengthen  tl 
memory,  we  must  be  constantly  exercising  it.1  We 
must  be  constantly  supplying  it  with  materials  fitted 
for  its  use,  and  we  must  also  be  frequently  calling  upon 
it  to  produce  its  treasures,  so  that  we  may  know  exactly 
what  they  are  and  where  to  find  them  when  they  are 
wanted.2  Hence  we  should  be  frequently  reviewing 
the  past,  day  by  day,  week  by  week,  year  by  year ;  re- 
viewing every  book  we  read,  every  conversation  we 
hear,  every  act  we  do.8  Infinite  injury  is  done  to  the 

1  "  If  anyone  ask  me  what  is  tlie  only  and  great  art  of  memory, 
I  shall  say  that  it  is  exercise  and  labour.    To  learn  much  by  heart, 
to  meditate  much,  and,  if  possible,  daily,  are  the  most  efficacious  of 
all   methods.     Nothing  is  so  much  strengthened  by  practice  or 
weakened  by  neglect  as  memory."— Quintilian. 

2  "  The  habit  of  frequently  reviewing  the  information  we  possess 
...  is  the  most  effectual  of  all  the  helps  to  memory  that  can  possibly 
be  suggested." — I).  Stewart.     "The  frequent  representations  of  the 
same  objects  to  the  memory  are,  in  a  manner,  so  many  touches  of  the 
graver,  which  cuts  them  deeper  in  proportion  to  the  frequency  with 
which  they  are  represented.  — Helvetius. 

8  "It  was  an  excellent  advice  which  an  ancient  philosopher  gave 
to  his  scholars  at  the  end  of  every  day,  to  recollect  all  the  actions  of 
it,  that  if  they  had  done  anything  amiss  they  might  amend  it  next 
day,  and  that  if  they  had  done  anything  well  they  might  enjoy  tlu> 
comfort  of  it." — Dr.  A.  Gerard.  "After  reading  as  much  as  you  can 
easily  retain,  be  careful  always  to  reckon  up  the  facto  or  iU'ins  that 
you  have  gained.  If  imperfectly  remembered,  turn  back  and  re- 
fresh the  memory." — Anon.  "  It  is  a  good  plan  to  imagine  always 
that  you  will  be  required  to  give  a  full  description  of  that  which  you 
see  and  hear." — W.  Stokes.  A  character  in  one  of  Mr.  0.  Retort 
23 


MEMOET. 

memory  by  the  habit  of  loading  it  with  matter  that  is 
seldom  or  never  recalled.  This,  is  unfortunately,  the 
character  of  much  of  the  reading  of  the  present  day, 
which  has  for  its  object  merely  the  satisfying  of  a  mo- 
mentary curiosity,  after  which  the  subject  is  perhaps 
never  again  thought  of,  and  speedily  passes  entirely 
from  the  mind.1  The  evil  habit  thus  induced  rapidly 
extends  to  more  important  matters,  and  much  that  it  is 
wished  and  desired  to  retain  is  found  to  slip  away  from 
the  memory, — its  entire  character  comes  to  be  under- 
mined, and  little  reliance  can  be  placed  in  it  for  any- 

novels  says  :  "  My  mother  .  .  .  taught  me  three  rarities — attention, 
observation,  and  accuracy.  If  I  went  a  walk  in  the  country,  I  had 
to  bring  her  home  a  budget :  the  men  and  women  on  the  road,  their 
dresses,  appearance,  countenances,  and  words  ;  every  kind  of  bird  in 
the  air,  and  insect  and  chrysalis  in  the  hedges,  the  crops  in  the 
fields,  the  flowers  and  herbs  on  the  banks.  .  .  .  Another  time 
mother  would  take  me  on  a  visit :  next  day,  or  perhaps  next  week, 
she  would  expect  me  to  describe  every  article  of  furniture  in  her 
friend's  room,  and  the  books  on  the  table,  and  repeat  the  conversa- 
tion— the  topics  at  all  events." 

1  "  Most  people  read  merely  to  pass  an  idle  hour,  or  for  something 
to  talk  about,  or  for  their  own  immediate  pleasure,  without  any 
attempt  to  impress  the  memory.  Nothing  in  truth  has  such  a  ten- 
dency to  weaken  .  .  .  the  intellectual  powers  in  general  as  a  habit 
of  extensive  and  various  reading  without  reflection." — D.  Stewart. 
"  Tales,  novels,  and  histories  derive  their  greatest  charm  from  the 
curiosity  they  excite,  to  know  what  will  become  of  the  hero  or 
heroine." — Dr.  Laycock.  "  I  believe  the  habit  of  perusing  periodical 
works  may  be  properly  added  to  Averroe's  catalogue  of  anti-mne- 
monics or  weakeners  of  the  memory." — S.  T.  Coleridge.  "  She  read 
whatever  excited  public  attention  and  curiosity,  but  she  read  to  little 
or  no  effect ;  she  impatiently  hurried  over  the  volumes  before  her 
that  she  might  begin  something  else  ;  the  consequence  unavoidably 
was  that  in  a  very  short  interval  she  retained  no  recollection  of  the 


hings. — lielvetius.  *  •  It  requires 
courage  indeed,'  as  Helvetius  has  remarked,  '  to  remain  ignorant  of 
those  useless  subjects  which  are  generally  valued ;'  but  it  is  a  courage 
necessary  to  men  who  either  love  the  truth  or  who  aspire  to  establish 
a  permanent  reputation."— D.  Stewart.  "  If  I  had  read  as  much  M 
other  men,  I  had  been  as  ignorant  as  they." — T.  Hobbe*. 


HOW  TO  IMPROVE  IT.  327 

tiling.  Note-books  and  common-place  books,  however 
useful  and  necessary  they  may  be  to  many  of  us,  have 
certainly  an  injurious  effect  upon  the  memory,  for  one 
will  be  at  little  pains  to  commit  to  memory  what  he 
can  readily  find  by  turning  to  a  note-book.1 

•  "  It  is  said  by  Plato  that  the  nse  of  writing  is  detrimental  to 
memory,  because,  as  he  intimates,  what  we  have  committed  to  writing 
we  cease  in  some  degree  to  guard  and  lose  it  through  mere  neglect. 
— Quintilian.  "The  bad  effects  of  writing  down  those  facts  and 
events  which  we  wish  to  remember"  is  that  "they  are  taken  down 
for  future  consideration,  and  consequently  receive  very  little  present 
consideration ". — Sydney  Smith.  "  It  is  certain  that  when  we  read 
with  a  view  to  fill  up  commonplaces,  we  are  apt  to  attend  rather  to 
particular  passages  than  to  the  scope  and  spirit  of  the  whole  ;  and 
that,  having  transcribed  the  favourite  paragraph,  we  are  not  solicitous 
to  remember  it,  as  knowing  that  we  may  at  any  time  find  it  in  our 
common-place  book." — Dr.  J.  Beattie.  "  In  regard  to  memory,  it  is 
remarkable  how  much  its  power  is  increased,  in  many  instances,  by 
that  kind  of  exercise  by  which  it  is  alone  trusted  to^  without  any  aid 
from  writing."— Dr.  Abercrwnbi* 


SYLLABUS   OF 
KAY'S  MEMORY  AND  HOW  TO  IMPROVE  IT. 

From  the  International  Reading  Circle  Course  of 
Professional  Study. 


Pages  i  to  46.      i— 

ii  In  what  sense  is  memory  the  most  important  faculty 
of  the  mind  ? 

2.  How  does  memory  serve  to  guide  future  conduct  ? 

3.  How  does  memory  add  to  the  pleasures  of  the  pres- 

ent? 

^  4.  What  is  the  office  of  attention  as  an  aid  to  one  power 
or  act  of  memory  ? 

5.  What  is  the  influence  of  association  as  an  aid  to  the 

other  act  of  memory  ? 

6.  Why  is  the  type  of  memory  having  contiguity  as  its 

associative  principle  deemed  the  lowest  ? 

7.  What    advantage    over   the   other    has    the    type    of 

memory  in  which  .similarity  is  the  associative  prin- 
ciple ? 

8.  What  power  characterizes  the  highest  type  of  memory  ? 

9.  What  evidence  is  there  that  nerves  and  even  muscles 

may  have  a  part  in  the  act  of  remembering  ? 
10.  What  is  your  own  judgment  concerning  the  doctrine 
of  a  physical  basis  of  memory  ? 

Pages  47  to  6}. 

n.  How  do  we  know  the  existence  and  nature  of  matter  ? 

12.  Do  we  know  in  any  other  way  the  existence  and  na- 
ture of  mind  ? 

*3.  What  can  we  know  of  the  relations  existing  between 
mind  and  matter  in  the  human  being  ? 

829 


330  SYLLABUS   OF 

14.  Why  has  the  material  theory  of  mind  no  bearing  on 

the  question  of  man's  immortality  ? 

15.  What  are  the  most  striking  analogies  that  lead  to  the 

conclusion  of  a  material  basis  of  memory  ? 

Pages  64  to  124.     >X 

16.  What  part  do  the  several  organs  of  the  body  sustain 

in  acts  of  memory  ? 

17.  What  influence  has  the  condition  of  the  blood  and  its 

circulation  on  the  ability  to  remember  readily  ? 

18.  How  do  the  bones,  and  more  positively  the  muscles, 

have  a  part  in  the  work  of  memory  ? 

19.  How  does  it  become  apparent  that  memory  in  the 

nervous  system  is  not  confined  to  an  action  of  the 
chief  seat  of  mental  activity,  but  resides,  in  part  at 
least,  in  the  condition  of  the  whole  nerve  tract  ? 

20.  Does  the  argument  of  this  third  chapter  seem  conclu- 

sive in  favor  of  a  physical  basis  of  memory  ? 

NOTE. — The  elements  of  physiology  presented  in  this  chapter  of  Mr.  Kay's 
book  should  be  made  very  familiar  to  every  one  who  desires  to  read  intelligent- 
ly the  current  discussions  of  questions  of  Physiological  Psychology. 

Pages  125  to  156. 

21.  What  limitation  is  placed  upon  our  acquiring  a  knowl- 

edge of  the  external  world  ? 

22.  What  is  a  sensation,  and  what  are  the  several  elements 

or  steps  in  its  production  ? 

23.  Into  what   three   parts   is   each   organ   of  sense   di- 

vided, and  what  is  the  separate  function  of  each 
part  ? 

24.  How  does  it  occur  that  the  idea  in  the  mind  does  not 

at  all  times  correspond  to  the  external  object  pro- 
ducing the  sensation  ? 


KAY'S   MEMORY   AND   HOW   TO   IMPROVE   IT.  331 

25.  How  do  the  organs  of  sense  appear  affected  in  the  act 

of  remembering  past  impressions  ? 

26.  Does  mind  reside  in  the  brain  alone,  or  in  the  entire 

nervous  tissue  ? 

27.  What  relation  does  accuracy  of  sense-perception  bear 

to  wisdom  of  action  ? 

28.  In  what  does  sense  training  consist  ? 

Pages  157  to  201. 

29.  How  is  the  muscular  sense   distinguished   from   the 

sense  of  touch  ? 

30.  What  evidences  are  there  of  a  power  of  memory  in- 

herent in  the  muscles  ? 

31.  Do  you  see  a  valid  objection  to  calling  the  "retentive 

power  "  of  the  muscles  a  form  of  memory  ? 

32.  For  what  reasons  may  the  sense  of  touch  be  deemed 

the  one  upon  which  superior  intelligence  most  de- 
pends ? 

33.  \Vhat  force  would  you  give  to  this  fact  in  an  argument 

in  favor  of  manual  training  in  public  schools  ? 

34.  In  considering  the  cultivation  of  taste  and  smell  do 

you  see  any  reason  to  suppose  a  power  of  memory 
to  exist  in  the  sense-organ  or  nerves  as  well  as  in 
the  brain  proper  ? 

35.  Has  the  fact  that  the  ear  is  more  susceptible  of  train- 

ing than  any  other  sense  led  into  too  exclusive 
appeal  to  this  sense  in  the  imparting  of  knowl- 
edge ? 

36.  In    what    respects    is    sight    of    higher   value    than 

touch  ? 

37.  If  you  conceive  a  person  with  the  sense  of  sight  un- 

impaired but  never  having  possessed  the  sense  of 
touch,  what  lines  of  knowledge  now  revealed  by  the 
eye  would  be  lost  ? 


SYLLABUS   OF 

Pages  202  to  226. 

38.  What  relation  does  the  mental  image  bear  to  the  ac- 

tion of  a  sense-organ  in  any  case  of  sensation  or 
perception  ? 

39.  How  do  the  vague  mental  images  of  early  life  become 

clear  and  distinct  ? 

40.  In  what  way,  or  to  what  extent,  do  you  deem  the 

sense-organ   exercised    in  recalling  the  image  of  a 
past  sensation  ? 

41.  What  class  of  mental  images  should  school  training 

especially  develop  the  power  of  forming  ? 

42.  Do  you  see  how  any  abstract  idea,  as  of  a  triangle, 

can  have  its  mental  image  ? 

43.  What  relation  do  mental  images  bear  to  the  action  of 

the  will-power  in  volition  ? 

44.  How  is  memory  to   be   strengthened   and   improved 

upon  the  basis  of  mental  images  ? 

45.  Do  you  agree  with  the  assertion  that  "  the  natural 

course  of  our  knowledge  is  from  the  general  to  the 
particular  "  ? 

46.  To  what  extent  should  the  processes  of  education  be 

directed  to  the  formation  of  mental  images  ? 

Pages  226  to  250. 

47.  What  is  the   parallel   between  unconscious  states  of 

mental  activity  and  invisible  existences  in  the  mate- 
rial world  ? 

48.  What  are  the  necessary  conditions  in  order  that  the 

mind  may  become  conscious  of  its  states  or  acts  ? 

49.  Why  are  some  dreams  remembered  and  some  not  ? 

50.  In  what  sense  is  every  act  of  consciousness  an  act  of 

memory  ? 

51.  What  testimony  is  given  by  some  who  have  experi- 

enced the  approach  of  death  in  drowning  ? 


KAY'S   MEMORY   AND   IIOW   TO    I.M  I'K<  >Y  i;    IT.  333 

52.  How  is  the  transition  from  conscious  effort  to  uncon- 

scious execution   in  walking,  writing,  playing  upon 
instruments,  etc.,  explained  ? 

53.  What,  then,  should  be  the  aim  of  educational  method 

as  regards  the  consciousness  of  mental  processes  ? 

^  Pages  251  to  270. 

54.  In  what  respect  is  careful  attention  essential  to  readi- 

ness and  accuracy  of  recollection  ? 

55.  In  what  does  the  distinctive  act  of  attention  consist  ? 

56.  How  does  the  power  of  fixing  and  retaining  the  at- 

tention affect  the  general  ability  to  do  mental  work  ? 

57.  How  is  this  power  of  attention  to  be  duly  developed? 

58.  What  part  has  the  power  of  analysis,  as  related  to  at- 

tention, in  the  acquisition  of  new  knowledge  or  skill  ? 

59.  How  does  the  principle  of  "  division  of  labor  "  affect 

attention  in  any  given  occupation  ? 

60.  How  does  the  act  of  attention  give  unusual  power  to 

the  body  under  certain  circumstances  ? 

61.  How  may  the  power  of  concentrating  the  attention 

come  to  require  little  or  no  apparent  effort  ? 

J     Pages  271  to  288. 

62.  How  are  dissociation  and  association  related  to  the 

fixing  of  ideas  in  memory  and  the  recalling  of  ideas 
that  are  held  in  memory  ? 

63.  How  are    ideas  associated  under  the  law  of  conti- 

guity ? 

64.  What  are  the  characteristics  of  association  by  succes- 

sive contiguity  as  determining  the  relation  of  ideas 
in  the  memory  ? 

65.  How  does  synchronous   contiguity  differ   from   suc- 

cessive contiguity  as  a  condition  of  association  ? 


334  SYLLABUS. 

66.  To  what  extent  or  in  what  way  does  the  power  of  asso- 

ciation by  similarity  depend  upon  the  power  of  asso- 
ciation by  contiguity  ? 

67.  How  would  you  drill  a  class  of  pupils  upon  a  lesson 

in  order  to  best  associate  ideas  by  contiguity  ? 

68.  What  manner  of  presentation  and  of  recitation  would 

serve  to  fix  a  lesson  in  memory  by  association  of 
similarity  ? 

69.  To  what  single  proposition  may  the  several  laws  of 

association  be  reduced? 

70.  What   mutual    relation   seems  to  exist  between   the 

physical  organization  and  the  mental  states  in  this 
matter  of  association  of  ideas  ? 

71.  What  general  principle  should  be  present  to  the  mind 

of  the  teacher  as  directing  the  association  of  ideas 
in  presenting  a  new  lesson  to  the  class  ? 

Pages  289  to  327. 

72.  What  characteristics  distinguish  local  or  verbal  mem- 

ory from  the  higher  forms  of  rational  and  representa- 
tive memory  ? 

73.  Upon  what  principle  of  memory  are  systems  of  mne- 

monics usually  constructed  ? 

74.  Upon  what  principle  is  the  cultivation  of  rational  -mem- 

ory to  be  based  ? 

75.  Upon  what  original  act  of  the  mind  does  the  strength 

of  representative  memory  depend  ? 

76.  How  are  the  sense-organs  and  the  muscles  concerned 

in  this  form  of  memory  ? 

77.  How  do  persons  differ  as  to  memory  of  impressions 

received  by  seeing,  -by  hearing,  and  by  acting  ? 

78.  What  are  some  of  the   chief   applications   in  school- 

room practice  of  the  principles  of  memory  training  ? 


INDEX. 


Abercrombie.  Dr.,  quoted,  16;  69; 
152;  256;  282,  et  passim. 

Abstract  ideas,  36 ;  301. 

Action,  memory  a  guide  to,  4;  6; 
necessary  to  thought,  87-8. 

Activities,  memory  the  remembrance 
of,  298-9. 

Addition,  how  to  teach,  821. 

Alphabet,  how  to  teach,  313-4. 

Analysis  necessary  in  education,  226; 
242;  264;  in  attention,  262-3: 
288. 

Aphasia,  219. 

Arithmetic,  how  to  teach,  820. 

Arrangement,  importance  of,  to 
memory,  288. 

Art,  the,  preceding  the  science,  87. 

Association  of  ideas,  271-88 ;  by  con- 
tiguity, 17-18;  273-88;  by  simi- 
larity, 19;  278-88;  these  reduced 
to  one,  284 ;  necessary  to  recol- 
lection, 11;  223-4;  271-8;  286; 
296;  rational  or  philosophical, 
20;  279;  294-6;  importance  of 
forming  right,  281 ;  295 ;  in  edu- 
cation, 282 ;  295 ;  in  our  actions, 
245;  284;  has  a  material  basis, 
285 ;  resembles  attraction  in 
matter,  ib. ;  importance  to,  of 
having  mind  well  stocked  with 
ideas,  287. 

Ascham,  E.,  quoted,  817. 

Attention,  251-70;  necessary  to  me- 
mory, 10;  41;  251;  defects  of 
memory  owing  to  want  of,  11; 
252 ;  what  it  is,  259-8 ;  conscious- 
ness concentrated,  253;  intensi- 
fies our  impressions,  165 ;  180; 
254 ;  by  means  of,  we  can  follow 
one  voice  or  instrument  among 
many,  255 ;  chiefly  distinguishes 
the  man  of  genius  among  others, 


256 ;  deficient  in  idiots,  257 ;  first 
to  decay,  ib. ;  importance  of 
cultivating,  258;  doing  one  thing 
at  a  time,  258-60 ;  313;  avoiding 
distracting  thoughts,  260-1 ;  divi- 
sion of  labour,  264-6 ;  physical 
basis  of,  266 ;  physical  conditions 
which  interfere  with,  267;  effects 
of,  on  the  bodily  organs  in  pro- 
ducing disease,  &c.,  267-9 ;  culti- 
vation of,  270. 

Auditory  memory,  to  train  the,  304 ; 
816. 

Axis-cylinder,  97-8;  identical  with 
nerve-cell  substance,  94;  161. 

Bailey,  S.,  quoted,  241. 

Bain,  Prof.,  quoted,  30;  64;  162;  168; 
173;  177;  229;  801;  804;  812; 
822,  et  passim. 

Bastian,  Dr.,  quoted,  148,  et  pattitn. 

Beaufort,  Sir  P.,  case  of,  288. 

Bell,  Sir  C.,  quoted,  269. 

Bernstein,  Dr.,  quoted,  142,  et  pastim. 

Bidder,  G.  P.,  his  calculating  powers, 
25;  820. 

Blindness,  psychical,  220. 

Blood,  the,  69-74. 

Body,  the,  64-124;  connects  man  with 
material  world,  64;  conn- 
between  mind  and,  66 ;  con- 
stantly undergoing  change,  68; 
blood,  69-74 ;  heart,  70-1 ;  motor 
organs,  74-5;  bones,  76-7;  joinU, 
77-8  ;  muscles,  78-86  ;  nervous 
system,  89-120;  cerebro- 
and  ganglionic  or  sympathetic 
systems,  90-1 ;  white  and  grey 
matter,  92;  grey  matter,  92-4; 
nerve  cells,  \b. ;  nerves,  94-7  ; 
cerebrum,  98-104;  cerebellum, 
104;  corpora  quadrigemina,  106; 


335 


336 


INDEX. 


optic  thalami  and  corpora  striata, 
105-6;  crura  cerebri,  107;  pons 
varolii,  ib. ;  medulla  oblongata, 
107  - 10 ;  cerebral  membranes, 
110-1;  spinal  cord,  114-5 ;  nerves 
of,  115-7;  cerebral  nerves,  117-20; 
exercise,  effects  of,  120-2;  aot  of 
locomotion,  &c.,  122-4. 

Bones,  the,  76-7. 

Brain,  the,  98-114;  membranes  of, 
110-1 ;  quantity  of  blood  going 
to,  111-2 ;  cerebro-spinal  fluid, 
112;  weight  of,  112-3;  when,  at- 
tains full  size,  113-4  ;  not  the 
sole  seat  of  memory,  141-9 ;  nor 
of  mind,  149-53. 

Brodie,  Sir  B.,  quoted,  222;  238; 
256,  et  passim. 

Brown,  Dr.  T.,  quoted,  16 ;  17 ;  234 ; 
263,  et  passim. 

Brown- Sequard,  Dr.,  quoted,  148. 

Calculation,  mental,  25. 
Carlyle,  T.,  quoted,  248. 
Carpenter,  Dr.  W.  B.,  quoted,  9 ;  78  J 

249;   250;    291;    313;   322,    et 

passim. 

CeUlife,  60;  61. 
Cerebellum,  104. 
Cerebrum,  98-104;  convolutions  of, 

99-100;  grey  matter  of,  ib. ;  103 ; 

white    matter,    100-3;    seat    of 

mind,  102;    number  of  cells  in, 

103 ;  cerebral  nerves,  117-20— see 

Brain. 
Chalmers,  Dr.,  case  of,  cited,  266; 

quoted,  302. 

Chess  playing,  blindfolded,  24-5. 
Cicero,  quoted,  291. 
Clarke,  Dr.  Adam,  his  loss  of  memory, 

090 

Cleland,  Prof.,  quoted,  150;  152. 

Colburn,  Zerah,  25,  249. 

Coleridge,  S.  T.,  quoted,  294. 

wolour,  undulations  of,  188-91 ;  har- 
mony in,  190. 

Common  sense,  derived  from  experi- 
ence, 240. 

Consciousness,  memory  necessary  to, 
2;  234;  formerly  regarded  as  co- 
extensive with  mind,  48;  227; 
much  regarding  which,  gives  us 
no  information,  50-1 ;  change 
necessary  to,  206;  229;  an  act 
of  antagonism,  230 ;  exists  in  an 
inverse  ratio  to  degree  of  in- 
tensity of  sensations,  &c.,  ib. ; 
time  necessary  to,  214-6 ;  231-2 ; 


244-5;  not  co-extensive  with 
mind,  235 ;  always  much  in  the 
mind  of  which  we  are  uncon- 
scious, 236-9 ;  whatever  has  once 
been  consciously  in  the  mind  is 
ever  after  retained,  239;  the 
more  any  power  or  faculty  is 
trained  the  less  consciously  it 
acts,  247;  necessary  at  first,  247- 
8 ;  afterwards  it  may  be  a  hin- 
drance, 248;  progress  towards 
unconsciousness,  ib. ;  the  highest 
operations  are  carried  on  uncon- 
sciously, 249;  the  highest  form 
of  memory  unconscious,  250; 
regarded  by  some  as  an  evil,  230. 

Consciousness,  double,  272. 

Contiguity,  association  by,  17;  18; 
273-4;  two  kinds  of,  successive 
and  synchronous,  274-6;  strong 
in  children,  &c.,  277 ;  to  be  culti- 
vated, 277-8;  disadvantage  of, 
279-80. 

Corpora  quadrigemina,  105. 

Corpora  striata,  105. 

Corpus  callosum,  99 ;  102. 

Cramming,  evil  of,  322. 

Crura  cerebri,  107. 

Cunningham,  Dr.  J.,  quoted,  302. 

Curiosity  favourable  to  memory,  41 ; 
306. 

Darwin,'  Dr.  E.,  quoted,  148;  888,  et 

passim. 

Democritus,  135. 
De  Quincey,  T.,  quoted,  9;  262. 
Differentiation,  268. 
Division  of   labour,  advantages  of, 

264-5 ;  266. 

Doing  one  thing  at  a  time,  258-9. 
Draper,  Dr.,  quoted,  59,  et  passim. 
Drowning    persons    recalling    their 

past  life,  238. 

Ear,  the,  175;  181;  associated  with 
the  voice  and  speech,  182-3 ; 
315-7. 

Education,  defects  of  present  system, 
8;  225;  312-3;  should  form  clear 
images  in  mind,  224-6;  science  of, 
yet  unformed,  225;  importance 
of  analysis  in,  226;  242;  264;  266; 
great  object  of,  248;  untrained 
activity  diffusive,  268;  associa- 
tion of  ideas  in,  282 ;  295 ;  art  of 
questioning,  282 ;  on  training  the 
vocal  organs,  287 ;  304-6 ;  cultiva- 
tion of  memory  the  great  business 


INDEX. 


337 


of,  912;  howto  teach  the  alphabet, 
813-4;  pronunciation,  816;  spell- 
ing, ib. ;  foreign  languages,  816-9 ; 
writing,  819;  arithmetic,  820; 
addition,  321 ;  cramming,  evil  of. 
822. 

Ego  and  non-ego,  205 ;  230;  801. 

Example,  power  of,  801. 

Exercise,  effects  of,  on  bones,  76-7; 
muscles,  84;  86;  297;  nervous 
system,  120-2;  senses,  298. 

Expression  necessary  to  thought,  76; 
87-8. 

Eye,  the,  191-8;  movements  of,  193; 
the  mind's,  the  retina,  301. 

Fairy  tales,  &c.,  value  of  in  educa- 
tion, 215. 

Feelings  opposed  to  memory,  299. 

Feinaigle,  G.  von,  quoted,  293,  et 
passim. 

Ferrier,  Prof.  J.,  quoted,  230-1;  249, 
et  passim. 

Figures,  dates,  &o.,howto  remember, 
310-1. 

Forget,  does  the  mind  ever,  ?  9 ;  11 ; 
12;  235-9. 

Fuller,  Thos.,  quoted,  824. 

Galton,  F.,  quoted,  225,  et  passim. 
Ganglia,  the,  90-1. 

Genius,  the  concentrating  of  atten- 
tion, 256. 

Goethe,  quoted,  249. 
Griesinger,  Dr.,  quoted,  182. 
Grotius,  H.,  his  great  memory,  IX 

Habit,  power  of,  85-6. 

Hamilton,  Sir  W.,  quoted,  1;  9;  21; 
26;  82;  148;  149;  161;  162; 
229;  233;  234;  239;  243;  253; 
284,  et  passim. 

Hartley,  D.,  quoted,  824,  et  passim. 

Hearing,  175-85;  organ  of,  176-6; 
sonorous  vibrations,  176-9;  musi- 
cal tones,  178-9;  differences  in 
acuteness  of,  179-80;  deafness, 
180;  attention  in,  ib.;  direction 
of  sounds,  181;  value  of,  ib. ; 
loss  of,  182;  closely  associated 
with  the  voice,  ib. ;  highly  sus- 
ceptible of  education,  184. 

Hehnholtz,  Dr.,  quoted,  137;  177; 
179,  et  passim. 

Hereditary  transmission  of  qualities, 
61-3. 

Hering,  Dr.  E.,  quoted,  297,  et  passim. 

Heyse,  Dr.  K.  W.  L.,  quoted,  202. 


Holland,  Sir  H.,  ^notefl,  Tij  169; 
824,  et  passim. 

Holmes,  0.  W.,  quoted,  282. 

Houdin,  Eobert,his  method  of  train- 
ing the  memory,  808-10. 

Huxley,  Prof.  T.,  quoted,  218,  et 
passim. 

Ideas,  203;  212;  218;  senses  con- 
cerned in,  86;  801;  see  Mental 
Images. 

Idiots,  memory  for  words  in  some,  14 ; 
277;  lack  power  of  attention, 
257. 

Imagination,  21-22;   a  sense  basis, 
83-4;    146;    diseases   caused  or- 
cured  by,  267-8 ;  to  be  cultivated, 
808. 

Imaginative  memory,  21;  28;  26; 
superiority  of,  27-8;  296;  800; 
how  to  cultivate,  808-12. 

Insanity,  exercise  of  sight  in,  199-200; 
power  of  ideas  in,  212;  217. 

Joints,  the,  77-8. 

Judgment  depending  on  past  experi- 
ence, 240. 

Kirkes'  Physiology,  quoted,  109; 
116;  117. 

Knowledge,  no,  without  memory,  2 ; 
from  general  to  particular,  226 ; 
in,  we  distinguish  between  object 
and  subject,  801;  acquired 
chiefly  through  sight,  hearing, 
doing,  803-4. 

Language  should  be  learnt  by  ear, 
182-3;  foreign,  how  to  learn, 
816-9;  the  Prendergast  system, 
818-9. 

Laycock,  Dr.,  quoted,  244,  et  pasrim. 

Leibnitz,  quoted,  228. 

Lewis,  G.  H.,  quoted,  234,  et  passim. 

Leyden,  Dr.  J.,  his  great  memory, 
12;  19. 

Liberty  and  necessity,  241. 

Light,  188-91 ;  undulations  of,  ib. 

Local  memory,  16-17 ;  290-2. 

Locke,  John,  quoted,  12;  68;  218;  317, 
et  passim. 

Locomotor  ataxia,  218. 

Loisettian  system,  xiii 

Luys,  J.,  quoted,  241,  ct  passim* 

M'Cosh,  Dr.  J.,  quoted,  260. 
M'Kendrick,  Prof.,  quoted,  160.   ei 

passim. 


338 


INDEX. 


Mansel,  Dean,  quoted,  158. 

Materialism  not  opposed  to  immor- 
tality, 52-3 ;  55. 

Matter,  47-8;  51;  value  of,  to  mind, 
65 ;  65 ;  limits  of,  unknown,  56 ; 
minuteness  of,  ib. ;  retains  traces 
of  changes  it  has  undergone,  67 ; 
seen  ir>  the  earth's  crust,  ib. ;  in 
trees,  58 ;  in  all  material  things, 
59 ;  in  our  bodies,  60. 

Maudsley,  Dr.,  quoted,  245 ;  248,  «< 
passim. 

Medulla  oblongata,  107-10. 

Memory,  what  it  is,  1;  importance 
of,  2;  4-6;  good,  rare,  3;  pleasures 
of,  6 ;  defects  of,  what  owing  to, 
8 ;  11 ;  too  limited  views  of,  8 ; 
never  forgets,  9 ;  11 ;  12 ;  235-9 ; 
241 ;  includes  retention  and  re- 
production, 10;  not  a  single 
faculty,  12 ;  each  faculty  has  its 
distinct,  ib. ;  39 ;  errors  from 
regarding,  as  a  single  faculty, 
13-14 ;  for  words  the  lowest  form 
of,  14-15 ;  invention  depends  on, 
15-16;  three  kinds  of,  16;  290; 
(1)  local  or  verbal,  ib. ;  (2)  ra- 
tional or  philosophical,  19;  294-6; 
(3)  representative  or  imaginative, 
21;  296-7;  superiority  of  last, 
27 ;  similarity  between  original 
and  recalled  impression,  29; 
owing  to  the  same  parts  being 
affected,  30 ;  300 ;  807 ;  whatever 
prevents  mind  from  acting  on 
the  same  parts,  prejudicial  to, 
299 ;  not  confined  to  the  brain, 
82-3;  39;  66-7;  141-9;  297;  307; 
not  an  intellectual  but  rather  a 
sense-faculty,  302;  physical  basis 
of,  85;  37-9;  45;  65-6;  60;  65; 
84;  123-4;  297;  conditions  of 
body  favourable  to,  41;  805-6; 
depends  on  the  blood,  71-4;  senses 
necessary  to,  140 ;  loss  of,  220-3  ; 
has  to  do  with  mental  images, 
223-4 ;  exalted  states  of,  in  fever, 
&c.,  237;  perfectibility  of,  239; 
the  highest  acts  of,  unconscious, 
250 ;  attention  necessary  to,  251 ; 
defects  of,  owing  to  want  of  at- 
tention, 252;  how  to  improve 
the,  289-327 ;  capable  of  indefinite 
improvement,  289;  arts  of  im- 
proving the,  290;  293;  depends 
on  the  character  of  original 
impressions,  296;  303;  the  re- 
membrance ol  activities,  298-9; 


should  be  trusted,  323;  fpofle<3 
by  doubt,  323-4 ;  not  to  be  forced, 
324;  first  impressions,  value  of, 
to,  306;  of  figures,  dates,  &c., 
810-1;  to  be  exercised,  825; 
reading  without  reflection  in- 
jurious to,  325-6;  use  of  note- 
books injurious  to,  327. 

Mental  images,  202-26;  mind  can 
only  perceive,  203 ;  become  clear 
by  degrees,  204 ;  212 ;  conscious- 
ness, 206 ;  have  a  material  basis, 
207 ;  not  alone  <in  the  brain,  ib. ; 
have  hitherto  received  but  little 
attention,  208 ;  different  kinds  of, 
visual,  auditory,  &c.,  ib.',  some 
persons  excel  in  one  kind,  others 
in  another,  ib. ;  of  muscular 
movements,  209;  of  thoughts, 
211 ;  serve  to  guide  our  actions, 
211;  213;  necessary  to  volition, 
212;  a  high  ideal  necessary  to 
success,  214;  unconscious,  214-6; 
importance  of,  216 ;  different 
kinds  of,  216-7;  loss  of,  218- 
22;  are  what  memory  has  to 
deal  with,  223-4;  its  strength 
depends  on  the  clearness  and 
distinctness  of  the,  ib. ;  not  con- 
fined to  the  eye,  226;  present 
in  associated  movements,  246; 
284-5. 

Mezzofanti,  Cardinal,  his  great  me- 
mory, 12 ;  818. 

Mill,  James,  quoted,  321,  et  passim. 

Milton,  John,  quoted,  62;  63;  65; 
817. 

Mind,  single,  42;  253;  266;  813; 
what?  47;  erroneous  view  of, 
48 ;  by  some  held  to  be  material, 
49;  impossible  for  our  present 
faculties  to  determine,  50;  61; 
materiality  does  not  involve  im- 
mortality, 62 ;  Milton's  view,  63 ; 
65 ;  every  act  of,  leaves  a  bodily 
impress,  65-6 ;  in  sensation,  133 ; 
in  sight,  194-5;  in  whole  body, 
149-53 ;  267-9 ;  passing  from  one 
form  of  activity  to  another,  265. 

Mind-wandering,  148 ;  to  cure,  ib. 

Mnemonical  systems,  v ;  277 ;  290-2 ; 
293-4;  310. 

Morell,  J.  D.,  quoted,  240;  248,  ei 
passim. 

Motion  in  sensation,  81;  134;  147;  dif- 
ferent rates  of,  in  different  kinds 
of  sensation,  185-6;  no  voluntary, 
without  memory,  2;  memory  ol 


INDEX. 


ttoh  kind  of,  distinct,  12;  in 
recollection,  82 ;  in  thought, 
85-6;  effects  of,  permanent,  87; 
89;  66. 

Motor  organs,  the,  74-89;  1224; 
memory  of,  804-5. 

Mtiller,  Dr.  J.,  quoted,  268,  et  passim. 

Muscles,  the,  78-89 ;  contractility  of, 
78-9 ;  voluntary  and  involuntary, 
79-80;  fibres  of,  ib.;  blood  vessels, 
81;  nerves,  81-2;  sensibility  of. 
82-3;  exercise,  84;  power  of  will 
over,  85-6;  212;  necessary  to 
memory,  40;  84;  146-7;  297; 
800-1. 

Muscular  sense,  the,  82-8;  142-4; 
157-60 ;  loss  of,  86 ;  memory  of, 
168-9;  209-10;  300;  mental  images 
of,  209-10;  exercise  of,  159-60. 

Musical  tones,  178-9;  pitch,  178; 
timbre,  179 ;  harmonics,  ib. 

Nerve  force  and  electricity,  188. 

Nerves,  the,  94-8;  afferent  and  effe- 
rent, 95 ;  141 ;  300;  each  capable  of 
conducting  impressions  in  either 
direction,  141-9. 

Nervous  system,  the,  89-124;  nerves 
and  nerve  centres,  90;  ganglia, 
90-1 ;  grey  and  white  substances, 
92 ;  nerve  cells,  92-4 ;  fibres,  97 ; 
effects  of  exercise  on,  120-2. 

Newton,  Sir  I.,  quoted,  256. 

Note-books,  use  of,  injurious  to 
memory,  827. 

Object  lessons,  value  of,  224. 
Olfactory  nerves,  117. 
Optic  nerves,  118. 
Optic  thalami,  105. 
Organic  memory,  60-62 ;  285. 

Paralysis,  88;  197;  218;  hysterical, 

219. 

Pascal,  B.,  his  great  memory,  11. 
Perception,  144-6;   206;    minimum 

of,  232-3. 

Philosophical  memory— see  Bational. 
Physical  basis  of  memory,  85;  87-9; 

45;  55-6;   60;   66;   84;   123-4; 

297;  of  association  of  ideas,  286; 

of  attention,  266. 
Pick,  Dr.,  quoted,  278. 
Pineal  gland,  105. 
Pons  varolii,  107. 
Port  Eoyal  Logic,  quoted,  812. 
Prendergast  system,  the,  of  learning 

languages,  318-9* 


Quain's  Anatomy,  quoted,  81 ;  118, 

et  passim. 

Questions,  art  of  asking,  2824. 
Quintilian,  quoted,  291. 

Eational  memory,  19;  90;  979; 
294-6. 

Reading  without  reflection  hurtful 
to  memory,  825-6;  in,  we  un- 
consciously observe  the  letters 
of  each  word,  242-8;  a 
suggests  a  word,  243 ;  looking  for 
a  word,  ib. 

Eeid,  Dr.  T.,  quoted,  146;  263,  et 
passim. 

Recollection,  43-6;  67;  beginning 
difficult,  46;  147-8;  depends  on 
association,  296. 

Repetition,  effect  of,  8;  41;  66-7; 
246. 

Representative  memory,  21 ;  28;  96; 
296;  superiority  of,  27-8;  996; 
800 ;  how  to  cultivate,  306-12. 

Retention  and  reproduction  in 
memory,  10 ;  11. 

Retina,  33-4;  191-4;  the,  the  mind's 
eye,  301. 

Ribot,  T.,  quoted,  72;  122;  123;  219; 
232;  236;  274;  804,  0*  pot****. 

Rote,  learning  by,  304 ;  817. 

Sohmid,  H.,  quoted,  239. 

Sensation,  produced  by  motion,  81-8 ; 
36-6;  89-40;  134-7;  what  it  is, 
129-80;  mind  most  important 
factor  in,  133;  understanding 
sometimes  overrides,  262;  only 
symbolic,  187-8 ;  and  perception, 
144-7;  205. 

Senses,  the,  125-201 :  impart  know- 
ledge of  external  world,  125-6; 
128 ;  163-4 ;  instruments  for  im- 
proving the,  127-8;  number  of, 
128;  stimulus  of,  180-1;  "multi- 
pliers of  disturbance,"  181 ;  outer 
organ,  182;  connecting  nerrM, 
ib.;  central  portion,  ISM;  loss) 
of  organ,  148-9;  muscular,  M7- 
60;  touch,  160-6;  taste,  166-70; 
smell,  170-5;  heating,  17W»; 
sight,  186-201;  training  ot%  89; 
166-6;  808;  n**u»xjtomtnaeft 
40;  i40;  146:  80(U|  Mi;  to 
thought,  86;  188;  to  Tolun terv 
motion,  189;  cultivation  of,  80f- 
12. 

Sensorium,  106 ;  284* 


340  INDEX. 

Sight,  185-201 ;   at  first  largely  de-          ance  of,  169-70 ;  improvement  of, 

pendent    on    touch,    &c.,    186 ;  170 ;  harmony  in,  ib. 

guides    our  physical   activities,  Taylor,  Isaac,  quoted,  55,  et  passim. 

186-7 ;  light  the  object  of,  187-91 ;  Thought,  seat  of,  36 ;  38 ;  in  recalling, 

colour,  ib. ;  acuteness  of,  192-3 ;  43 ;  expression  necessary  to,  76 ; 

the  most  intellectual  sense,  194 ;  87-8,{  rapidity  of,  233 ;  imperish- 

training  of,  195 ;  touch  as  an  aid          able,  38 ;  235 ;  regarding  it  as  an 

to,  196 ;  compared  with  hearing,  object,  802. 

ib. ;    power   of,   over   muscular  Tongue,  166. 

movements,  196-7 ;    importance  Touch,  sense  of,  160-6 ;  acuteness  of, 

of,  to  memory,  198;  to  thought,  161-3;    heat    and    cold,    163-4; 

198  -  9 ;    in    insanity,    199-200 ;  superiority  of,  in  man,  164 ;  at- 

improvement  of,  by  education,          tention  in,  165 ;  exercise  of,  166 ; 

200.  in  the  blind,  198. 

Similarity,    association    by,    19-20 ;  Training  tends  to  confine  energy  to 

278-9 ;   294-6 ;   value  of,  279-80 ;  special  channels,  156 ;  untrained 

the  greater  the,  the  stronger  the  activity  diffusive,  268— see  Edu- 

association,  286;   295;   training  cation. 

of,  282 ;  295.  Tyndall,  Prof.,  quoted,  51,  etpauim. 
Smell,  sense  of,  170-5;    objects  of, 

171-2 ;  minuteness  of,  172 ;  action  TTeberweg,  Dr.,  quoted,  145. 

of,  172-3 ;  classification  of  odours,  Ultra-conscious   mental   states,  50 ; 

173;  cultivation  of,  174;  pleasures          214-6;    227-34;    236-40;    241-4; 

of,  ib.  247-9 ;  affect  our  conscious  states, 

Smith,  C.  W.,  quoted,  315,  et  passim.  232;    progress   in    direction  of, 

Soul,  immortality  of  the,  materialism  247-9 — see  Consciousness. 

not  opposed  to,  52-3;   Milton's 

view,  53 ;    a  belief   among  the  Verbal  memory,  16-19 ;  275-7 ;  292-3. 

ancients,  54 ;  not  held  by  some  of  Visual  memory,  305 ;  how  to  culti- 

the  early  fathers,  ib.  vate  the,  311. 

Sound,  176-9 ;    vibrations    of,    176 ;  Vocal    organs  guided   by   the   ear, 

three    classes    of,  177-9 ;   tones,  182-3 ;  on  training  the,  287 ;  305 ; 

178-9 ;    interpretation    of,    180 ;  utterances,  memory  of,  804-5. 

attention  to,  ib. ;   direction  of,  Volition,  mental  image  necessary  to, 

180-1.  212;  216;  218. 

Spectator,  the,  quoted,  23 ;  25 ;  27. 

Spencer,  H.,  quoted,  31;   72;  229;  Whist  memory,  310. 

230,  et  passim.  Will,  power  of,  over  onr  movements, 
Spinal  cord,  114-5 ;  nerves,  115-6.  limited,    85-6 ;    mental    images 

Stewart,  Dugald,  quoted,  55;    244;  necessary   to,    212;    216;    218; 

245 ;  281 ;  290,  et  passim.  requires  to  be  trained,  86. 

Stokes,  W.,  quoted,  804,  et  passim.  Wilson,Prof.G.,quoted,173,e^a«siw. 

Words,  memory  for,  14;    15;    un- 
Taine,  H.,  quoted,  228 ;  233 ;  274,  et  meaning,  best  fixed  in  the  me- 

passim.  mory,  261 ;  315. 

Taste,  sense  of,  166-70 ;  acuteness  of,  Writing  as  an  aid  to  memory,  304 ; 

168;   objects  of,  168-9;  import-  how  to  teach,  319. 


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